


Your Name Is a Triangle, Your Heart Is a Square

by jupiter_oak



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dream Smp, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Sam | Awesamdude, Not RPF, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Older Siblings Wilber Soot and Technoblade, Other, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, not sure what to call this au- think of it as a medieval au with modern elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:13:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28741560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jupiter_oak/pseuds/jupiter_oak
Summary: It’s been a long time since Techno, Tommy, Phil, and Wilbur have considered themselves family.When Techno finds Tommy half dead in the snow outside his cabin, that starts to change.(title: fool by frankie cosmos)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 49
Kudos: 365
Collections: Found family to make me feel something, MCYT Fic Rec





	1. Tommy’s Party

**Author's Note:**

> hey! first mcyt fic :)  
> rly excited to get writing! any comments n kudos you leave mean the world to me  
> uhh this one’s kinda short! i’ll try my best to upload weekly   
> roast me for typos <3  
> TWs for this chapter: falling, near death experience, homelessness, frostbite
> 
> also antagonist!dream (just in case ppl don’t wanna see that)
> 
> (title: tommy’s party by peach pit (not my idea!! inspired by my good friend sam :]))

Snow falls softly, glistening in the crisp morning air as the first rays of sunlight begin to peek above the rolling hills. Technoblade steps out of his cabin and stretches, groaning softly.  
The morning is still, save for the soft whisper of wind across the landscape. He breathes in the cold air, taking a moment to relax. There’s much to do today.  
Starting out, he’ll go to Phil’s house, just a few minutes’ walk from Techno’s home up on the cliffs. It’s a small, cozy cottage just outside the arctic village.  
While Techno and Phil still want a space to be close to one another, they still need their time to themselves, after all.  
He looks out upon the ever-growing village at the foot of his mountain. Only a few small figures bustle about the streets, likely running early morning errands to feed their families once they wake up for breakfast. It’s too early for most of the village’s occupants to be up.

Since Phil and Techno had settled in the frigid biome, people had automatically been drawn to them (Or rather, Phil. Techno wasn’t much for social interaction.). Travellers stopped by, Philza promptly (unofficially) adopted them, they built their own houses, and they stayed.

Phil and Techno had been travellers, once.  
Before these times, Techno had lived on the streets. It was much warmer there. Temperature wise, at least. And only in the daytime.  
Nights were cold, and unforgiving. As one can imagine, cobblestone and hay aren’t exactly the most warming things in the world. And Techno was so very small. And so very, very alone. He had nothing to his name but the clothes on his back. 

Techno remembers the very last time he had to wake up on those harsh, grimy streets. He remembers waking up to a shadow looming over him, wings spread ethereally, sunlight streaming in between the slim gaps between the figure’s feathers. Phil was a much younger man then, with light stubble on his chin, and soft blonde hair. His eye bags weren’t quite as pronounced yet, though they would soon grow heavy with the years of stumbling through fatherhood. His expression was gentle and somehow familiar, his gray eyes soft at the sight at the small humanoid piglet before him. 

Still, Techno had jumped up, startled, and stumbled over his words, trying to demand an identity from the blonde stranger- but Phil had only smiled.  
He spoke softly to the frightened child, saying something comforting- Techno couldn’t remember what. The words were blurred and fuzzy from the years that had passed.  
He remembered a second of reluctance, then hesitantly taking Phil’s hand and walking with him. He never looked back once. 

With a small jolt, present-day Techno shook himself from the memory with a displeased grunt.  
That’s enough reminiscing, he lightly scolded himself. There’s only so much time in the day, after all, and there’s a lot to get done. 

He steps off his porch, ready to take on the day, but pulls back slightly when his boot meets something that... isn’t snow.  
“Heh?” he grunts softly in surprise.  
Hesitant, Techno gingerly brushes a thin layer of icy white powder off the foreign object. It looks like fabric. He brushes off more of the soft snow, his eyes widening at the familiar messy blond mop of hair and ripped crimson shirt that come into view. 

Techno makes a quick, two-second decision. This child, half-dead in the cold, probably frostbitten, with nowhere to go..

“Yep,” Techno confirms, nodding decisively. “This is definitely not my problem.” He steps over the unconscious child and sets out down the mountain.

Not but two steps away from Tommy’s motionless form, Techno meets Philza coming up the path.

“Morning, Techno,” Phil greets him. 

Techno hums in response. “G’mornin, Phil.”

Phil glances over Techno’s shoulder, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. What has Techno gotten himself into now? “Say, uh.. D’you happen to know anything about the child lying on your doorstep?” he asks.

Techno shrugs. “Nope. He just appeared magically on my doorstep with the promise of three wishes, so naturally, I knocked him out and left him to die in the cold. Dang orphans always cloggin’ up my porch.” 

Phil laughs softly at that, a high, slightly nasal sound, though not an unpleasant one. “Well, do what you want, but I’d like to cash in those wishes of yours,” Phi says, and walks past Techno to gently brush the snow from Tommy’s worn features. 

Techno shrugs again nonchalantly. “Do what’cha want.”  
Despite his supposed apathy towards the situation, Techno makes sure to stick around until Phil hoists Tommy onto his back before continuing down the mountain. 

“Looks like he’s pretty worn out,” Phil says softly. Again, Techno just hums in response. He doesn’t like to think about Tommy. Or any of his brothers, really.

Walking through the arctic village is usually a long, long process for Phil. When he walks down the streets, it’s as if Jesus Christ himself has descended to walk the earth again. Women come out to make small talk with Phil, children laugh and play, weaving in between the blond man’s legs and picking flowers to place in his pockets, and men come to laugh and invite Phil for a beer later.  
Phil always laughs and declines. He has to have a little time to himself, you know, he tells them. They laugh and let him on his way.

Luckily, it seems that this morning, most of the citizens of the Arctic Empire are too preoccupied to come gawk at Philza. Either that, or Techno’s towering, scarred figure and worn velvet cape doesn’t exactly make for a welcoming persona.

In any case, they make it to Phil’s home without any delay, and Phil carefully sets Tommy down on his neatly-made bed, Techo closing the door behind them.  
Phil hums quietly and clicks his tongue, resting a gentle hand on Tommy’s forehead.  
“He’d look dead if I didn’t know any better,” Phil comments. “But he’s breathing.” He kneels and pulls out a wooden box from underneath his bed, then takes a small bundle of medical tools from the box. Techno watches with mild interest. 

“Techno, go and fetch a warm washcloth, will you?” Phil asks as he gently peels off Tommy’s ragged shirt.  
Techno grumbles under his breath, but does as Phil asks. “Yes, dad,” he remarks dryly, and brings Phil the washcloth. 

“Thank you, son,” Phil says with mock-seriousness as he takes the cloth, looking into Techno’s eyes, before shaking his head and laughing to himself, earning a small snicker from Techno.  
Phil gently dabs warm water on Tommy’s fingers, face, and feet, where the skin has started to turn blue.  
“We’re lucky we got to him so soon,” Phil comments. “He would’ve been much worse, had he been out there another hour or so. Maybe even risked death.”  
“Quick, Phil, stop!” Techno says with fake urgency. “We’d better put him back outside while we still have the chance!” 

Phil explodes into another fit of giggles, and gently tucks Tommy into bed. “Ah, Techno.” Phil shakes his head. “I’ll never grow tired of you.”

After managing to carefully feed a half-asleep Tommy some water and a little bit of soup, Phil heats up the rest of the mushroom stew and pours it into two mugs for Techno and himself, humming under his breath. 

Techno gratefully takes his mug and sits down at the kitchen table with Phil, savoring the feel of the hot ceramic against his chapped hands. Phil takes a long sip from his mug, closing his eyes. They don’t need to talk. Comfortable silences are the larger part of their friendship.  
Techno quickly downs his soup and sets the mug on the table, wincing a little at his now-burnt tongue.  
A soft mutter comes from the other side of the room, and Techno glances up.  
Tommy’s stirring slightly, talking in his sleep. His brow is furrowed and he curls up into a tight ball, turning onto his side.  
Phil frowns sympathetically. “Poor kid,” he comments.

Techno takes this as his excuse to leave. Emotions? Traumatized children? No thank you. He stands and secures his cape tighter around his shoulders. 

“What do we do with him once he wakes up?” Phil asks.  
“Ask him for those wishes back, duh,” Techno replies easily.  
Phil snorts at that and stands as well, smiling. “He may not be so keen on that after you knocked him out.” 

“Ehh, he’ll get over it.” Techno rests his hand on the doorknob and steps out into the icy air. “I’ll talk to ya later, Phil.” Phil hums a goodbye as Techno lets the door close behind him. 

Techno walks down the cobblestone street, his boots making thick tapping sounds as he strolls along. The village is just starting to wake up. Children are already bundling up to go outside and play in the snow. A few lopsided snowmen are already in the process of construction. 

Techno notices, however, as he walks past the clumsily made figures of snow, the children glance at him, frightened, and abandon their projects in favor of running to their parents. 

Techno isn’t bothered. He doesn’t exactly look welcoming with his heavy black boots, tusks, and his left eye, perpetually pupil-less (in proper piglin fashion). Not to mention the stains on some of his clothes. Blood is extremely difficult to wash out.  
In any case, it’s probably a good thing they know to steer clear of him. He’s not good with children, anyways.

As the regular hustle and bustle of the town starts to kick up, Techno notices a lone figure in the distance. He squints- a traveller? It doesn’t look like they’re carrying much. The only thing in their hands seems to be a wickedly sharp netherite axe, to match their gleaming netherite armor tied on over an obnoxiously green hoodie.  
“Heh??” Techno mutters to himself, and moves to meet the approaching figure. He stops just outside the village outskirts, and within moments, he is face to face with none other than Dream. Fated immortal and supposed god.  
Dream stops just in front of Techno. The dotted eyes of his smiling mask bore (Ha, boar. Like a pig. Cause Techno’s a pig.) into Techno’s eyes.  
Techno is unphased. And unimpressed.

“Dream,” he greets. “Finally come to find yourself a house? Tired of being homeless?” 

Dream just shakes his head in response, evidently irritated. Techno snickers. 

“No, Techno, I haven’t come to live in your arctic empire,” Dream says, a hint of a friendly smile in his tone. “Actually, I’m not here for you at all. I’m looking for somebody.” 

Techno raises an eyebrow, yawning. This conversation is already boring. “Alright, alright, I’ll cave. Yes, you can live in my house so you don’t have to sleep on the streets.”

Dream chuckles softly, the vaugest hint of frustration showing through the empty laugh. “Enough with the jokes, Techno. I’m looking for Tommy”  
“Uh… I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Dreams tone darkens. “Enough games, Technoblade. I know he’s here.”  
“Huh, that’s, uh, kinda funny. Cause that’s news to me.” 

“Hm. You know, Techno, I think I might have something that may, uh... Jog your memory.” Dream gently pats a small leather pouch tied to his belt, causing the contents to clink softly. 

Gold nuggets.  
Techno knows that sound anywhere. He’s part piglin, after all.  
Dream unties the pouch and casually swings it back and forth. The air is filled with the beautiful sound of gold nuggets lazily rolling over each other. Techno’s one pupil dilates and he makes a grab for the bag. 

Dream quickly pulls it out of reach and speaks softly to him. “Tell me where the kid is, Technoblade, and it’s alllll yours.”

Damn his piglin instincts.  
Techno can’t refuse an offer like that.  
Techno’s sure he can almost see Dream smile in triumph underneath his mask as Dream ties the pouch back to his belt.

“Tommy first,” Dream says. “Then your gold.”  
Techno frowns. “Fair enough.”  
With a sweep of his cloak, he turns and makes his way through the village square, people hastily moving out of the way for the two intimidating men.  
Techno takes the shorter path up the mountain to his house on the cliff. He doesn’t spare a second glance at Phil’s cottage.  
Dream keeps up with Techno’s pace fairly well. 

Once they reach the cabin, Techno takes his time unlocking the door and stepping inside. He has nothing to worry about.  
Dream steps in behind him and shuts the door.  
“Alright,” he says. “Where is Tommy?”  
“I’m gettin’ to it, I’m gettin’ to it,” Techno grumbles, and unfastens his cloak, draping it over the hook next to the door. “Just stand over by that door, will ya?” Techno gestures to the back door of the house. 

Dream does as Techno asks.  
God, he can’t wait to get his hands on that blonde little brat. Now that he’d effectively gotten him away from Tubbo, he could finish the job without any problems.-  
“Uh, earth to homeless teletubby?” Techno interjects, waving a hand in front of Dream’s mask. “Try to hold in your bloodlust for, like, two seconds, Jesus.” 

Dream blinks and nods hastily. “Of course.” 

“So what’s your business with Tommy, anyways?” 

“Enough stalling,” Dream says carefully. His voice goes dangerously soft. 

Techno holds up his hands and takes a step as if to say “hey, just curious.” 

Dream frowns.

“He’s just through this door,” Techno says, holding out his hand. “But first, the gold. Gotta make sure you’re not scammin’ the Blood God.” 

“Did you just talk about yourself in third pers-”

“Yes. We’re not gonna talk about it. Next question. Gold?”

Dream doesn’t have the patience to hesitate before handing Techno the pouch.  
Techno smiles. “Just open that door, Dream.” 

He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Dream whirls around and yanks open the door, only to be met with- empty air? There isn’t a room at all- the whole back side of the house is hovering over the edge of the cliff. 

Dream turns, half confused, half fuming with Techno for wasting his time, to demand an explanation- but all he’s met with is Techno’s smug smile, and a swift kick to his knees. Dream hardly has any time to process before his feet are knocked out from under him, and suddenly he’s falling through empty space, flailing his arms and legs in desperation. He clumsily fumbles for an ender pearl and hurls it at a nearby tree on the cliffside. He hardly makes it, too- he’s no less than a few feet from the ground when he hits the branches of the tree. 

Techno just cackles and waves as Dream falls, thoroughly relishing the force with which Dream slams into the tree branch.  
Dream looks up at Techno from the spruce tree, and the two hold each other’s gazes for a moment.  
Techno gets the feeling Dream won’t be coming back.  
Dream somehow gets the feeling Techno doesn’t want to help him. 

Techno shakes his head and tosses the bag of gold out the back door as well, then shuts it with a little more force than necessary.  
Did Dream really think he was that cheap? Tsk. He may be part piglin, but he’s not that much of a scumbag.  
It was probably fake gold, anyways.

As he makes his way back down the mountain, Techno makes the decision that this maneuver was purely because Dream gets on his nerves. Yes. That’s it. Entirely petty and not at all personal reasons. 

...But he supposes it’s just an added bonus that his little brother (who he absolutely hates and doesn’t care for in the slightest) is unharmed.

And if Techno breathes a sigh of relief when he goes back to Phil’s cottage and finds Tommy safe, well. That’s nobody’s business but his own.


	2. Good Habits (and Bad)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello! it’s friday again so here’s another chapter :) vewy excited to continue this seriessss  
> your kudos and comments mean the world to me <3  
> roast me for typos
> 
> title: good habits (and bad) by Saba Lou
> 
> TWS: separation, (mentioned) fire, minor violence

Tommy is so proud of Tubbo on the day of his coronation.  
With those stubby little horns on his head and a newly-placed crown, Tubbo will be an amazing leader.  
“The best the Celestial Kingdom’s ever seen!” Tommy tells him, and Tubbo laughs and lightly punches his shoulder.  
Tubbo’s just turned seventeen, and Tommy couldn’t be more excited. Tubbo’s older brother, King Dream, has stepped down from the throne to let Tubbo take his place.

Tommy asks Dream, jokingly, why he decided to step down. Why give up all that power? Dream simply turns that smiling mask to Tommy, his tone empty, and tells him that every good thing must come to an end. 

Tommy doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t like the way Dream says it.  
He shrugs it off.

The day after the coronation, Tommy is escorted out of the palace.

Dream walks into his room in the morning, without knocking, and yanks open Tommy’s curtains. Tommy blearily rubs at his eyes and props himself up on one elbow.   
“What the fuck?” he asks groggily, squinting in the sunlight.

“Get up,” Dream says quietly.   
“Wha- I just woke up!” Tommy protests. “The fuck is-”  
“Get. Up,” Dream snarls. 

Tommy gets out of bed. 

Dream waits for him to get dressed, then takes ahold of his arm, too tightly. He walks Tommy down the marble hallways and stops with the young boy just in front of the castle gates.   
“Alright, Tommy,” he says calmly. “It’s time for you to leave.”  
Tommy has to take a moment to process before he gets angry. “Why?” he demands, glaring at the masked man. “I was in the middle of sleeping, you know!” 

“Tubbo asked me to escort you out of the palace,” Dream says simply. “Permanently.” 

Tommy blinks and sputters. “No, no, Tubbo wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t! What could he possibly kick me out for?”

Dream shrugs. “I dunno, Tommy. Something about you being a distraction. Getting in the way. I think he’s gotten tired of you.” 

“You can’t just- make me leave,” Tommy laughs incredulously. “This is my home! I demand to see Tubbo!”  
“He doesn’t want to see you, Tommy. He’s tired of you, and it’s about time, too. You’re annoying, rude, and selfish. Look at you. You’re still being selfish, even now. You can’t even bother to listen to your best friend and respect his wishes.”

Tommy doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. He’s confused, and he’s tired, and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. The palace towers up above him, and he looks up at it in horrified silence.   
He has lived there for so long. Four years, he thinks. Since he was just twelve. He’s still only a child.   
He’s had so many good times here. Sparring with Tubbo , playing hide-and-seek in the impossibly giant palace, sneaking tarts from the royal kitchen when the cooks are distracted.   
Tubbo had promised Tommy, the first day he had come to live in the palace, that they would always be together. He promised they would play for hours on end, and eat lunch together, and read scary stories together when they were supposed to be asleep.   
He promised they would never, ever be separated. 

Tommy stares at Dream in shocked silence. 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dream says. He stares back at Tommy. His grip on his netherite axe, always in hand, subtly tightens.

Tommy falters. He turns away, his voice hushed. “Why?”

“I don’t know, Tommy,” Dream says in a soothing tone. “Maybe you’re just meant to be alone.” 

The palace gate opens. When it closes again, Tommy has set foot on the palace grounds for the last time.  
After watching the boy for a moment, Dream turns and goes inside. He does not look back.

Tubbo had kicked him out. Tubbo kicked him out. Tubbo, his best friend in the whole wide world. Without a second thought.   
Tommy hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. 

Tommy starts to walk. He walks, and walks, and walks- towards what, he doesn’t know. But he can’t stop. He has to keep moving. He wades through rivers, thick forests, swamps. It’s feverish, dizzying- Tommy’s half sure he’s still dreaming. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, surely hours. The sun has set a long time ago. His limbs ache, and he’s covered with scratches and bruises. He’s tripped and fallen too many times to count.  
His head is too fuzzy with tears for him to register, or even care. He’s alone. 

He stops, only for a moment, when he reaches snow. 

There are lights in the distance- a village?  
His clothes are torn and dirty. The wind cuts right through his thin t-shirt, and he shivers. He keeps going.  
It takes longer than it should to get to the village. His steps have become slow and sluggish. He stops in the town square and looks up at a small cabin on the cliff of a mountain.  
There. That’s where he’ll live. Alone.   
Where he’s supposed to be. 

Tommy’s so painfully close to the door when his legs give out from underneath him. He collapses into the snow.  
“Maybe.. It wouldn’t be so bad just to take a.. Small rest,” he murmurs to himself.   
He lets his eyes drift closed.  
Snow starts to fall.

—————————

Two days later, Tommy wakes up. In an unfamiliar house. Dressed in clothes that aren’t his. In a bed that isn’t his. 

Then, Philza Minecraft walks in the front door.

And all hell promptly breaks loose. Because of course it does.  
Philza doesn’t even have time to think before he’s clumsily trying to calm down a flailing Tommyinnit, who’s flinging his arms around, screaming profanities and threats, and just altogether freaking out. Unfortunately, despite his attempts, it’s a little hard to get a word in edgewise with someone as hot-headed as Tommy, especially in this type of situation.

“Tommy!” Phil shouts, his voice drowned out by the unintelligible screeching coming from the kid. “Tommy!” 

“I’ll fuck you up, big man, big P, that’s what I’m gonna call ya, Big P!! Everytime a hot woman comes around I’ll call ya big P and she’ll be so frightened and intimidated she’ll never talk to you again, bitch!” Tommy screams, rambling and flailing, pausing every so often to laugh hysterically at his own jokes between sentences.

Now, Phil’s not a religious man, but he feels like he could sing every hymn in the books when Techno walks in the door.   
“Techno- oh-” he winces a little as one of Tommy’s thrashing arms smack a vase of flowers off of a table. “Help your old man out, won’tcha?”

Techno blinks. “Right.” He glances around the room, and on a quick, not at all impulsive instinct, smacks Tommy over the head with the butt of his sword.  
Tommy promptly keels over, and Phil instinctively yelps, startled.  
“Techno! That’s-” Phil shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant by help…”  
Techno rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, heat rising to his face. “Oops.”

Phil just shakes his head and chuckles softly. Classic Techno, really.  
Tommy lies on the ground, his face peaceful, for once. Phil struggles a bit, but manages to pick him up and rest him on the bed.   
“Well, at least he’s calmer now,” Phil comments, wincing at the small bump already forming on Tommy’s head. 

“Yeah. uh,” Techno looks at the sleeping kid. “Remind me to get outta here ‘fore he wakes up again.” 

Phil chuckles again. “Will do. I’ve no idea what happened to him. He woke up, saw me sitting at the table-“

“And promptly decided ta go nuts,” Techno finishes. “Yeah, I could see that.” 

Phil looks at Tommy laying on the bed. Despite Tommy’s dirty, ragged clothes being replaced with an old sweater and a clean pair of trousers from Phil’s closet, and his patched-up wounds, the kid looks so, so tired. Phil doesn’t remember him having such dark circles under his eyes. His heart twists a little. Tommy isn’t the little boy he used to be.

Tommy groans and slowly sits up again, rubbing at his bruised head. “The fuck..?” His eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Philza and Technoblade standing in the kitchen.   
As is customary with Tommy, he decides the solution is to raise his volume.   
“The fuck?” He shouts. 

Techno groans inwardly and rolls his eyes. He’d forgotten how much of a pain Tommy is. “G’mornin, Tommy.” 

“Wha- I- he- How the fuck did I get here?”

Techno shrugs. “You tell me, Tommy, how’d you end up buried in the snow in front of my porch?” 

Tommy wrinkles his nose and peers around at the house. “This is your house? I didn’t take you for the decorating kind, Technoblade, my friend.” 

“We’re not-“ 

“This is my house, Tommy,” Philza interrupts. “You’ve been asleep for a little over two days.” 

“Two days??” Tommy explodes. “Wh- I’m like Sleeping Beauty, I am! A woman! Imagine!”   
He stands up, swaying unsteadily, and puffs his chest out. “Now! You two had better tell me how I got here!”

Philza nervously takes note of Tommy’s unsteadiness on his feet. “Well, actually,” he says gently. “We were hoping you could tell us that.”

“What- you put me here!” Tommy accuses, crossing his arms indignantly. “I was just taking an afternoon stroll, got a little bit lost, and- next thing I know, I’m.. in Philza Minecraft’s parlor!” 

Techno and Phil exchange a quick glance. 

Tommy continues on, oblivious. “When my friend Dream comes ‘round looking for me, you’ll both be sorry! He’ll cut your ‘eads off, that’s what he’ll do!”

Techno makes a visible “yikes” face. Phil, ever-observant, catches it. He gives Techno a look.   
“Techno,” Phil says carefully . “D’you know something about Dream that we don’t?”

“Dream!” Tommy shouts. “Dream, Dream, my friend…” he rambles on, turning his attention to Techno. “Where’dja see him? Did he ask about me? Well, big man, spit it out!” Tommy’s eyes shine, his excited gaze focused on Techno.

“Techno…” Phil says again. Oh, God. He’s giving Techno the “what-did-you-do-this-time” face. (Even though Techno’s a grown man, no one is immune to the “what-did-you-do-this-time” look. Especially when it comes from Phil).

“Err.. Tommy, that Dream guy, I don’t, I don’t think that guy’s your friend,” Techno says carefully, his eyes flicking to Phil. “He came ‘round yesterday lookin’ for you, and, uh, let’s just say he didn’t seem like he wanted ta hang around with you.”

Cue an indignant squawk from Tommy.

“What? Nonsense!” Tommy crows. “Dream loves me!” 

“You’ve got some idea of love, then,” Techno snorts. “Cause apparently Dream shows love by bribing me to take him to you, all while holding an extremely powerful netherite axe, and looking extremely bloodthirsty.”  
Phil frowns. 

Tommy dismisses that, too. “Nahhhh, no! Dream wouldn’t do that.” He nods surely to himself. “He wouldn’t do that. He’s my friend.”

“Dream’s become a pretty ruthless guy, Tommy,” Phil says. “And I don’t think Techno would be lying about him.” 

“Techno? He totally could be!” Tommy protests. “He’s probably trying to worm his way into me ‘ead, make me think he saved me so I trust him! And then, in the middle of the night- he’ll turn on me!” 

Techno just rolls his eyes. That seems to happen a lot around Tommy.

“Y’know, Dream and I have good times! He kicked me out of the Celestial Palace, you know, blabbering on about something like me being a distraction to Tubs. And he didn’t give me any food to live off or anything.” Tommy laughs, completely oblivious to the horror of the situation he just described. “Funny guy! Real jokester.”

“Right,” Phil says slowly. “A real... fun guy.” Techno notices Phil’s knuckles go white as he digs his fingernails into his palms.

Techno’s brow furrows and he glances from Tommy to Phil.   
Tommy’s gone quiet, he notices. Which is strange.

Tommy sits back down on the bed. He fidgets with his fingers. “I’d like to go home now, please,” he says. “Take me home.” 

“Ehh, I don’t know if that’s possible, Tommy, I don’t know if that’s possible,” Techno says, hesitant. The kid’s only just woken up, and it seems like the last thing he needs to hear is that his “friend” is intent on killing him in cold blood. 

Tommy, his eyes widening, starts to argue, but Techno cuts him off. 

“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said he came lookin’ for you yesterday, kid, and I don’t think he’s gonna be too happy if you go back ta the Celestial Kingdom. And didn’t he kick you out?”

“Only the palace,” Tommy grumbles quietly. 

“So you’ll be living on the streets if we let you go home,” Phil says softly. He sits down next to Tommy on the bed.   
Tommy just mutters in response. “I guess.”   
Philza gently rests a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy shrugs off the hand and scoots away from his father. Phil folds his hands in his lap, pursing his lips. Techno shifts uncomfortably. 

Phil speaks up again. “You can stay with us as long as you like, Tommy.”   
“Uh, he can stay with you,” Techno interjects. “I don’t wanna get caught up in conflict with that Dream guy.” 

At the prospect of a good bicker, Tommy perks up again. “Wh- Techno, why wouldn’t you want me to stay with you, I’m terrific company!” he argues. 

Techno just shakes his head, grumbling,and mutters something about needing to check on his farm, and having a headache. He leaves before either Phil or Tommy can say anything, the door slamming shut behind him. 

Phil shakes his head and smiles at Tommy. “Techno means well,” he says.  
“Yea, well, Techno’s a bitch,” Tommy announces. Philza laughs softly.

After a moment of silence, Tommy speaks up again. “The truth is, Philza Minecraft, I’m in denial,” he sighs. “I know Tubbo kicked me out.”

“Tubbo?” Phil asks. “I thought-”   
“Yea, well, they both did,” Tommy snaps. “Tubs- Tubbo just got Dream to do his dirty work. He’s a coward, that’s what he is,” he spits. “Couldn’t even bear to look me in the eye when he got rid of me.”   
Tommy hugs his knees to his chest, hot tears burning in his eyes. Phil tentatively rests a wing around Tommy’s shoulders, and this time his son doesn’t pull away.   
Phil fiddles with his thumbs awkwardly. It’s been too long since he’s talked to Tommy.

Tommy rubs at his eyes roughly and stands up, tall and proud again. “I’m going to go find Techno,” He says with determination, and heads towards the door. 

“Hold on a moment before you leave.”  
Tommy looks back at him. “What is it?”  
Phil stands and moves to the back of the room, and opens a small closet. He pulls out a thick cloak, much too small for him. Just the right size for Tommy.   
‘Here,” he says softly, and holds the cloak out to Tommy. “Take this.”

Tommy wordlessly takes it, running his fingers over the soft cloth. He looks at Phil.   
“What is it?”   
“It’s Techno’s old cloak. I just thought it might be useful for you- no one’s worn it in years, and it’s just your size,” Phil explains.

Tommy looks at the cloak for a moment more before fastening it around his shoulders. He looks at Phil again.  
“Thanks, Philza Minecraft,” he says, a crooked grin upturning the corners of his mouth.   
He heads out the door, and Philza smiles.

Phil sits down at the kitchen table once Tommy leaves, lost in thought. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed his youngest son. His boisterous attitude, his drama- it truly is the glue that sticks the family together, isn’t it?   
If only Wilbur were here. He and Tommy had always been especially close. 

That is, until the accident.   
It’s one of Phil’s biggest regrets, never noticing the signs of Wilbur’s declining mental state. He had been so preoccupied trying to keep food on the table that he never had time to check in with his son.   
Still, that’s no excuse. 

The truth is, Philza thinks. I’m not a good father.  
Every parent is going to mess up a bit, of course, but not noticing your son slowly spiraling until he snaps and burns down the village where you live?  
Phil couldn’t think of a worse way to fuck up. The family hadn’t been right since, unsurprisingly. 

Tommy had left to live with Prince Tubbo and Dream in the celestial palace, upon their invitation. He told Phil not to follow him. 

They were asked to leave the country, which was fair enough, considering how much of the village the flame had destroyed, though Phil could hardly bear to leave Tommy behind. He knew he’d be taken good care of- Dream was much, much kinder at that time. He had only just become king, after his and Tubbo’s father died.

Techno was the only one who stayed after the fire. He and Phil travelled for a couple years, before settling down and eventually starting the Arctic Empire. It wasn’t an empire at all, really- it’s too small for that, and there isn’t any emperor to rule one.   
Besides, Phil and Techno are both wary of the corruptions of government. As far as they’re concerned, it’s better off without a ruler. Likely a wise choice on their part. 

No one’s seen or heard from Wilbur. For all Phil knows, he could be dead.

And now it’s been four years, and Tommy’s back, with a bloodthirsty immortal after him. Someone Phil’s not sure even Technoblade could protect them from. 

Not that Phil won’t do his best. His hands tighten into fists at the thought. If Dream has the nerve to come by again, well. Phil doesn’t even want to think of what he’d do to the bastard responsible for hurting his son.

It makes Phil sick to think about what Dream’s already done to Tommy. Kicked him out of his home, and then come to finish the job.   
Phil doesn’t just have a hunch that Dream kicked Tommy out without Tubbo’s knowledge- he is one hundred percent certain. He wouldn’t be surprised if the green fucker had told the poor child that Tommy was dead.

Tommy and Tubbo used to spend hours upon hours with each other when they were younger. Tubbo was practically family to them.

God, what Phil would do to see them together again. 

—————————————————————  
Meanwhile, Tommy is strolling through the snowy village, head held high. Technoblade may have escaped him for now, but no one is free from Tommy’s wrath. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to have a look around this place he’s landed in. With its snow-capped roofs, quiet bustle, and quaint decorations, Tommy wouldn’t mind exploring this place a bit more. 

It doesn’t take long for Tommy to find Techno, since, as one can imagine, a piglin hybrid with the hulking form that Techno has doesn’t exactly blend in. He’s tending to his potato farm when Tommy finds him, knelt in the dirt.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouts, popping up behind Techno, who jumps, startled, before turning round to shoot Tommy a glare. He stands, dusting off his knees.  
“Looks like my headache’s back,” he says dryly. 

“I’ve decided to ignore that remark, Technoblade, because you and I are going to have loads of fun today, big man,” Tommy announces.   
Techno ignores him, eyeing Tommy’s cloak. “What are you wearing?” he asks.

“Your old cloak!” Tommy grins, posing pridefully. “Pretty spiffy, eh? Phil let me borrow it!”

Techno just nods. Phil had made him that cloak a long time ago. Stitched it himself. It’s nice to see the old garment finally being put to good use.

“Anyways!” Tommy continues. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Plan? There is no plan,” Techno grumbles. “I’m gonna carry on with my day, and you’re gonna leave me alone. Go, I dunno, play with some blocks or somethin’. Is that what kids are doin’ nowadays? Blocks?”

“Technoblade, you’re hardly an adult yourself! Only a few years into adulthood, you are!” 

“Am not. And what’re you calling me ‘Technoblade’ for? You’re allowed to just call me “Techno,” y’know.”

“Well, Technoblade’s your name, isn’t it? What, do you go by Mr. Blade now that you’re all grown and shit?”

“No, Mr. Blade was my father’s name,” Techno deadpans.

“No, it’s not, his name’s Phi-”

“Don’t care.” Techno turns and walks away from Tommy, who only follows after him, undeterred. 

“Where we goin’?” he chirps. 

“I am going to the Nether,” Techno replies. “You’re staying here. Where I don’t have to listen to you.”

“Oh please, pleeeeease let me come with you?” Tommy pesters. “Please! I’ll be all bored in the Overworld, you’ve got to take me with you!”

“I don’t have to do anything, actually.”

“Please, Technoblade. Please.”

“No.” 

“Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!” 

“You’re really makin’ me feel like murderin’ a child today, Tommy, I’m not gonna lie to you.” 

“Techno, please let me come.”

Techno exhales, annoyed. “Fine. We’re goin’ to the Nether. But if you annoy me, I’m throwin you to the other piglins,” Techno says, and for a moment Tommy genuinely can’t tell if he’s joking or not. “They’re not nice like me.” 

“But,” Tommy blinks. “You’re not nice.”

“Exactly.” 

So the two brothers get set up to travel to the Nether. Techno reluctantly lets Tommy borrow an old set of diamond armor with outdated enchantments, and lends him a couple old weapons, too. They’re functional, which is all that matters. And Tommy doesn’t complain.   
Techno suspects he’s just happy to be included. 

Fastening the last piece of shin armor to his leg, Techno turns to Tommy. “Ready?”

Tommy grins. “Let’s go!” 

After a few moments of walking, Techno and Tommy are stepping through the portal into the fiery crimson biome. Techno smiles slightly to himself. Although he doesn’t remember any of his life in the Nether before living on the streets in the Overworld, sometimes the heat feels familiar to him. Comforting. All part of his blood, he supposes. 

He walks along with Tommy, spacing out as the young boy rambles about some (probably fake) adventure he’s apparently been on in the Nether.   
“-And then I said to Tubbo, ‘I’m not afraid of anything!’ which is true, by the way, Technoblade- and then I took my half-broken iron sword by the handle, and I hurled it into the Ghast’s big, ugly- ugh!”

Techno cuts him off, quickly grabbing the back of Tommy’s shirt collar and yanking him away from the edge of the cliff that Tommy evidently hadn’t noticed he was about to walk off.

“Be careful,” Techno warns Tommy, and lets go, ignoring Tommy’s irritated sputtering. 

“I was perfectly fine!” Tommy huffs, crossing his arms. 

“Hm? What’s that?’ Techno says, and raises his pitch in a nasally mimicry of Tommy’s voice. “‘Thank you Mister Technoblade, I’m so glad you saved my life, You’re my hero!’” 

He returns to his own voice. “ Why, you’re welcome, Tommy, I’m glad to help, anything for you,” he says, resting his hand on his chest in a humble manner. “I’m just a simple pig doin’ my work.”

Tommy just huffs again, pouting. “I do not sound like that.”   
Techno only snickers.

And although he makes sure to complain about it extensively, Tommy tries to stay a little more aware of his surroundings. 

“What are we doing here, anyways?” Tommy asks. “You never told me.” 

“We’re goin’ to the fortress to get blaze powder.” 

“How come?”

“‘Can’t tell ya.”

Tommy huffs. “Well that is just not fair. How come it’s such a big secret? I’m trustworthy! You can tell me, Technoblade, my lips are sealed.”

“It’s not a secret, Tommy, If it was a secret, I wouldn’t be takin’ you with me. We ran out. Obviously.” 

The two continue to bicker, and the next couple hours pass in a similar fashion. Techno quickly relearns that Tommy quite literally never shuts up, and by the time they’ve crossed back into the Overworld, he is legitimately considering expanding his child-murdering range from not just orphans, but parented children, too. 

Phil’s just in the middle of cooking dinner when Techno and Tommy come home. Time moves a little faster in the Nether, so even though Tommy and Techno had only been away for a few hours, it’s already dusk when they come back. 

Techno opens the door and stomps the snow off his boots, tosses his cape on the coat rack, then flops down onto the couch, letting out a long sigh. Tommy bursts in the door behind him.

Phil smiles. “Hello, Techno. Hi, Tommy.”

Tommy grins. “Hi, Phil!” Techno just grunts in response.   
Tommy inhales deeply, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. “Mmm, something smells great! What’s cookin, da-” Tommy cuts himself off, startled, but quickly recovers.  
“...What’s cooking, big man?” he tries again. 

Phil tries to ignore the pang in his heart at that. “Just some chicken soup,” he says gently. “Techno’s favorite. There’s bread in the oven, too. I figured he’d be pretty worn out from your adventures today.” 

“Yeah,” Tommy snorts. “He’s no fun. He’s old n’ shit.” Techno just “hmph”’s from his seat on the couch.

“Hey, I’m an old man too, Tommy, watch it,” Phil says, and his eyes crinkle warmly as he grins.

Tommy grins back, laughing, and peers around Phil’s shoulder at the simmering stew.   
“Can I help?” he asks. “Please?” 

“Well, I’m almost done, but if you could grab some bowls and set the table, that’d be very helpful.” 

“Alright!” Tommy runs to get the bowls and silverware, surprisingly eager to help with such a small task. 

Techno groans and stands up from the couch, haphazardly tying his long, messy hair into a pink bun. He helps Tommy set the table. 

Philza carefully pours the warm soup into the wooden bowls that Tommy hands him, and sets them down on the table.  
“Dinner is served.”

Tommy takes this as an invitation to eat, and promptly wolfs down his soup, using his piece of bread to soak up the broth. He hadn’t realized how hungry he’d been. Techno skips the spoon entirely and just picks up his bowl to drink from it. Phil’s just glad they seem happy.

Techno sets his bowl down and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Thanks, Phil,” he says, and stands up to wash his bowl. 

“Of course,” Phil says.  
Tommy goes in for seconds. 

Thoroughly worn out, Techno flops back onto the couch and picks up his old leather-bound journal on the coffee table. He fumbles with a dirty pair of glasses stuffed in his shirt pocket, and sets them on his face. They’re smudged, thick frames held together by a single piece of tape. Techno sets to writing in the journal with a stubby pencil (also from his shirt pocket).

Tommy flops down next to him a moment later and stretches.  
“Whew, I’m beat!” He announces, yawning.

Techno ‘s already way ahead of him. His writing pace has slowed considerably, and his eyelids are starting to droop closed. 

Phil glances at his sons, smiling fondly, and stands up from the table to start clearing the kitchen.  
When he looks up again, both boys are fast asleep, leaning against each other. Techno’s glasses are still perched on his nose, and Tommy’s wild mess of hair is stuck with all sorts of soot and ash from their adventures today. Phil’s heart melts a little bit. 

After he finishes washing the dishes, he carefully takes off Techno’s glasses and folds them, neatly setting them on the coffee table. He gently musses up Tommy’s unruly hair and presses a firm kiss to the top of his head, then turns out the light. 

He lets his boys rest.


	3. Introduction to the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ranboo stumbles upon the arctic empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone! happy friday! hope your weeks have been well :)  
> waaa this chapter was a Bitch to write and i had to start over halfway thru,, but i think it came out well! new chapter poggg,, ranboo chapter pog  
> (title: introduction to the snow by miracle musical)  
> TWs: memory loss, minor angst
> 
> roast me for typos  
> ur kudos and comments mean the world to me!

Ranboo can’t remember much of anything these days. 

He knows a few things, of course, the basics, but it isn’t much. Everything just seems like... fog. The kind that streetlights gently glow against, the kind that feels like you’d dissolve in it if you were to walk too far in. It looms around him, ominous and inevitable, blanketing the deep corners of his mind. 

He always fights against forgetting, resists the soft lull of the warm mists, the song that hums him into an unconscious nothingness. It’s so draining to do that everyday, to fight for your own consciousness like that, and sometimes it just seems easier to give in. Remembering is so painful, anyways. 

He’s already lost so much of himself. He doesn’t remember most of his early childhood, he doesn’t remember his family, or any friends he had. There’s so much he’s experienced that he can never get back. It’s blurry and diluted in his mind, lost to time. Sometimes he can’t sleep, thinking about it. People who might have cared for him, fed him, clothed him- how could he just forget about someone like that? Something so important? 

He doesn’t want to forget .

So he keeps a journal, soft and leatherbound, to help him remember. He found it a long time ago, cast aside off a beaten path. It was in surprisingly good shape, and a small, black pen was tucked under the cover. Ranboo jumped at the chance when he found it. It felt like all his problems had been solved with those scrappy pages neatly sewn into the leather cover. 

Of course, that’s not entirely true. But something tells Ranboo that without it his life would be a lot more difficult. 

Everyday, when Ranboo wakes up, he opens the journal and reads the first page to himself. 

  * _Your name is Ranboo._


  * You don’t quite know how old you are, but most tell you that you are too young to be by yourself. Sixteen to seventeen is your best guess. 


  * Water hurts you without armor. 


  * You are half enderman.



It isn’t much, but it’s a familiar constant in his life. It comforts him. 

He fills the other pages with things he wants to hold onto- drawings, scraps of colorful paper, snippets of conversations, the occasional page from a book.

His favorite pages are the ones he doesn’t remember writing in. They don’t really mean anything, but they feel... like home.

Ranboo thinks he makes these pages when he wakes up from dreams. Messy, vague drawings, inexplicable places and creatures. 

Many of them have common elements, Ranboo’s noticed. Tall, black spires stretching into the sky, beams of light shining from them. Vast expanses of pale rock. A horrible, wonderful creature, with sharp, jagged teeth, violently purple eyes, and a form so  _ unfathomably _ big that it hurts Ranboo’s head to picture it.

Ranboo’s never heard of these things before, let alone seen. He has no idea how he could even come to think of them. 

The only vaguely familiar things in these cryptic drawings are endermen. Creatures of pure darkness and finality, ambling along the Overworld on their spindly limbs. Ranboo shares blood with them, but they mistify him. 

No one quite knows where they come from. No one  _ wants _ to know. Enderman are arguably the most haunting of the creatures that roam the Overworld, and any person with an ounce of self-preservation knows to avoid them. They’re too human, yet their eyes see nothing. Slaves to their own minds. 

This being said, it makes sense that Ranboo’s appearance doesn’t help him fit in. His mismatched, unblinking eyes, too-long legs, and tendencies to pick up random clumps of earth tend to let people know that he’s not quite… normal. Not quite human. People tend to get uneasy around him, and clutch their children a little closer to their chests.

He’s long given up trying to settle down. He’s been chased out of his fair share of towns by angry, pitchfork-wielding crowds (although those memories tend to be a little blurry). 

Ranboo tries not to let it bother him. He’d be frightened of himself, too.

Between his writing, and the empty spaces of fog in his mind, Ranboo walks. He sleeps under trees at night, and forages for what little food he can find. It’s not that bad, really- if he were more for solitude it would be the perfect life. 

He’s seen things he could hardly even begin to describe, living this way. Beautiful grass plains, waterfalls gushing with tons upon tons of water, sandy ruins, snow-capped mountains… it all takes his breath away.

Speaking of snow, he’s been seeing a lot more of it recently. It’s.. this strange village. It’s quaint, and cozy- bustling with people who all seem to know each other. They laugh and visit with each other on the streets like they’re not in any hurry at all. 

No matter how hard Ranboo tries to remember to keep moving, he always finds himself circling back to it. 

He thinks it’s because of the people that he feels so drawn to this place. One family in particular, really. A young boy with a shocking mess of blond hair, an imposing piglin brute adapted to the Overworld life, and a blond man with golden brown wings and olive green clothing. 

It’s been about a month since Ranboo first found himself at the village, and the family’s sense of togetherness is something that… confuses him. They bicker, laugh, get into trouble- and they always stand up for each other. Ranboo’s never really had anyone be there like that for him before. The family’s dynamic intrigues him. They’re a strange trio, yet somehow they fit together perfectly. 

The winged man- Phil, as Ranboo’s heard him called, seems to be the main caretaker. He makes meals for the other two, sews up their clothes when they get torn, and spends most of his time helping the other residents build their houses. Everyone in the village flocks to him. He just exudes a patient, gentle aura that you can’t help but be drawn to. Some days, even Ranboo wants to muster up the courage to talk to him. About what, he doesn’t know. But he feels like Phil wouldn’t run from him like other people might. 

The piglin’s name is Technoblade. Ranboo doesn’t know much about him, really, as he seems to be a bit of a recluse. He doesn’t attract people the way Phil does. The opposite, in fact. People make an effort to steer clear of the threatening man, with his menacing posture and gruff voice. Phil and Techno seem extremely close, and they’re almost always together, whether they’re fending off monsters, farming, or just talking over a cup of tea. Ranboo’s pretty sure Technoblade is Philza’s son, but they seem more like close friends than anything. And he’s never heard Techno refer to Philza as his father.

The youngest member of the family is Tommy, who seems to be the one who really ties them together. His antics and mischief are a big source of laughter and lightheartedness for the three. Tommy’s a young, easily excited boy, who is very, extremely loud. It seems as if every minute he’s found something new to shout about. Even though Ranboo and Tommy have an obvious difference in their levels of maturity, Ranboo’s pretty sure they’re the same age. 

Ranboo didn’t mean to start watching them, not really. It just kind of... happened. Besides, it isn’t like that’s the only thing he’s here for. The people don’t run from him, and he’s even found his own space to live nearby, just behind a small cliff close to the village. It isn’t much, but it feels more like home than any other place Ranboo’s stayed. 

It goes on like this for about a month. Ranboo writes in his book, attends to the mundane chores of his daily life, and watches the strange family go about theirs. It’s nice. He doesn’t mind the boredom. 

Until one unsuspecting afternoon, Ranboo finds himself face to face with Technoblade.

It’s a nice evening like any other in the Arctic Empire, and Ranboo had just been ready to head home from the night after a productive day of farming and trading. 

Walking back from the village, Ranboo stops for a moment on the outskirts. He catches sight of Tommy, running into Phil’s house, shouting about dinner. Phil greets Tommy with a brief hug and a grin. The two walk inside, and Ranboo smiles. 

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out his journal and pen, humming under his breath. 

“What are you doin’?”

Ranboo gasps, startled, and drops his book in the snow. Ranboo looks up “Holy cow, you-” 

He freezes, his face draining of blood. It’s the piglin brute. And god, he is so much more terrifying up close. Bone-white tusks jut out from his crooked snout, and small, angry eyes glower down at Ranboo. (Despite the fact Ranboo is a good foot taller than Technoblade, he just has that effect on people). 

Ranboo swallows, his throat going dry. “You… scared me,” he finishes.

Technoblade just glares at him. 

“Um.. hello,” Ranboo tries in a friendly tone, instinctively finding something else to focus his eyes on other than the bloodthirsty gaze of the pig in front of him. 

The piglin obviously isn’t much for small talk. He cuts right to the chase.

“I’ve seen you watchin’ us,” he says, carefully. Ranboo shrinks even more under his eyes. 

“Well, um, that’s- that’s really a funny story,” Ranboo starts, his eyes darting to the crossbow secured onto Techno’s back. “I- well, I was just- stopping by a month or so ago, and I kept finding myself here, and- and, well, I just decided to settle down, and-” 

Before Ranboo even can process what’s happening, Techno’s taken ahold of the collar of Ranboo’s shirt, and he’s face-to-face with the pig. Ranboo’s eyes widen, and he thinks he might pass out from fear.

“Tell me what you’re doing here,” Techno snarls, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve seen you watchin’ us, and I want to know what you want from my family. I could kill you right now if I wanted to. Are you spyin’ on us for Dream?” 

Who?

Techno waits. Ranboo, still stuttering, can’t find it in himself to say anything. 

“Alright,” Techno says, tightening his grip on Ranboo’s shirt. “Looks like we’re doin’ this the hard way.” 

“Wait-” Ranboo starts to plead, but Techno’s done listening. He grabs Ranboo’s arm and starts dragging him through the snow to Phil’s house. Ranboo struggles against him, trying to stammer out an explanation, but Techno’s grip is impossibly tight, and he’s evidently made up his mind. 

“Wait- I, I think this all just a misunderstanding,” Ranboo says, trying to pull his arm out of Techno’s grip. “I’m not here to hurt you!” Again, Techno doesn’t listen. He pulls Ranboo up the steps to the front door and turns to him. 

“Try anything,” Techno says, “and I’ll kill you.” He opens the door and pushes Ranboo through, stepping in and slamming it shut behind him. Phil and Tommy look up from their dinner, startled.Tommy’s fork clatters from his hand. 

“What the fuck?” Tommy asks, looking back and forth between Techno, Phil, and Ranboo.

“Techno,” Phil says, frowning. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” 

Techno gestures to Ranboo. “I found this guy outside, watchin’ you two. He’s been doin’ it for at least a month, and it’s bothering me. He’s been creepin’ around since Tommy got here.” 

Phil brow furrows in confusion, and he glances at Ranboo. 

“I can explain,” Ranboo starts, but Techno cuts him off. 

“I don’t trust him,” Techno growls, throwing Ranboo an angry look. Ranboo swallows. 

Phil shakes his head and just keeps eating his dinner, evidently not bothered. “Techno,” he says after swallowing a bite. “I know he’s been here. He’s kind of hard to miss,” Phil points his fork in Ranboo’s direction, who flushes, embarrassed.. 

“Wh- and you’re not at all bothered by this?” Techno sputters, bewildered. 

“Nope,” Phil says, and nods to Tommy, who’s been looking at him with a worried expression, and Tommy immediately goes back to eating. If Phil isn’t bothered, then it isn’t anything to waste time over.

“You’re not worried in the  _ slightest _ ?” Techno repeats, gesturing at Ranboo again. Ranboo shifts awkwardly. This evening is not at all going the way he wanted it to.

“Techno, if he wanted to hurt us, he would’ve done it by now,” Phil says. “He’s harmless.” 

“I really am,” Ranboo says helpfully. Phil shoots him a look. Ranboo shuts up.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not fuckin’ weird, you watching us, though,” Phil says to Ranboo, setting down his fork. “That’s fucked.” Ranboo picks a table leg to focus on.

“Yeah!” Tommy cheers through a mouthful of food. 

“Um,” Ranboo says, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly, feeling himself crumple under pressure. “I, I really didn’t mean to, it just sorta happened. I’m sorry, I- didn’t- I kinda just live here. And stuff.” 

Techno huffs and shakes his head. “Can’t I just get rid of this guy, Phil?” 

“Maybe we should, y’know, not do that?” Ranboo offers nervously. 

Phil nods in agreement. “Let’s not kill him, Techno. He’s just a bit weird in the head, I think.” 

“Well-” Ranboo starts to protest, but takes a moment to think. “Actually, y’know, that’s fair.” 

Techno growls under his breath, obviously not pleased. “Fine.” He crosses his arms and rubs at a scratch on the floor with the toe of his boot.

“What’s your name again?” Phil asks, looking at Ranboo. 

“Oh, um- I’m Ranboo.” 

“Do you have a place to stay, Ranboo?” 

“What?” Techno explodes. “You’re offering this guy a room?”

Ranboo glances uneasily at Technoblade. “Well, I do have a place to stay- just around that cliff there.” 

“That little shack?” Phil asks, his brow creasing in sympathy. “You poor thing. How old did you say you were?” 

Techno shakes his head, mumbling under his breath. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

Tommy snickers. Techno shoots him a glare.

“I’m, uh…” Ranboo trails off. His memory is going foggy. His journal- shoot, he must have dropped it when Techno snuck up on him. He chews on his lip, struggling to remember. “I’m... sixteen? seventeen?”

“Seventeen?” Philza asks, startled. “No wonder you’ve been watching us- you’ve been out there in the cold by yourself. Christ.”

“Does that mean he’s staying?” Tommy asks. “Because I am  _ not _ sharing my room with him.” 

“No,” Phil says, and stands, moving to put the dishes in the sink. He waits a moment before elaborating. “He’ll stay in Techno’s spare room.” 

“What?!” both Ranboo and Techno exclaim. 

“Uh, no offense, but I am not sharin’ my house with that creep.”

“Actually, yeah,” Ranboo says. “No, thank you.”

“You have to,” Phil says simply. He picks up a sponge by the sink and begins cleaning the dishes, whistling softly under his breath. Still completely unfazed, apparently.

“Phil,” Techno starts to argue.

“Techno,” Phil replies calmly. Techno just glares at the back of Phil’s head. He knows there’s no arguing. Phil’s done with the conversation.

“Fine,” Techno snarls, and turns to Ranboo. “But again, try anything funny, and you’re dead.” 

Ranboo nods quickly, hands held up. “Point taken.”

Techno whirls around and stomps out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him. Ranboo hovers at the exit, hesitant. He’s not completely certain the piglin will spare him if he follows after. 

Tommy stands up from the table and carelessly tosses his plate and fork onto the counter, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Thanks, dad!” He runs up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and disappears into his room. 

“Ranboo,” Phil says, still maintaining his calm tone from earlier. “Help me with the dishes, will you?” 

Too nervous to argue or make excuses, Ranboo moves to stand at Phil’s side. “What do I…?”

“You wash, I dry.”

“Well- the water…” 

“What about it?” Phil asks. 

“I mean, it burns me,” Ranboo explains uneasily, focusing on the shelf above the sink instead of Phil’s eyes. “I’m part enderman, so. Y’know.”

“Ah,” Phil says. “You dry, then.” 

Ranboo nods and picks up a towel, then begins to dry the dishes that Phil hands to him. They stand there in silence for a moment, doing their respective tasks. Ranboo wishes he could be at home, writing in his journal.

“So, Ranboo,” Phil begins, and Ranboo nearly breathes a sigh of relief at the break in the tense silence. “You don’t happen to know anyone named Dream, do you?”

Nevermind. That’s worse. Interrogation, part two. 

“Um,” Ranboo says, racking his brain for an ounce of familiarity within the name. “No?”

“Is that a statement, or a question?” 

“My memory’s not the best,” Ranboo murmurs awkwardly. “But he doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Hm,” Phil says. “You’d better be telling the truth. That man has done awful things to my boys, and if you were working for him, well,” he laughs softly. “Let’s just say you should be grateful that you aren’t.” Phil sets another washed plate down on the counter with a little more force than necessary, and Ranboo winces at the loud clatter. He picks it up with the towel and starts to dry it.

“It is awfully odd that you’ve never even heard of a man with his kind of power,” Phil wonders out loud, casting an eye in Ranboo’s direction. 

Ranboo shifts uncomfortably under his gaze. “My memory really isn’t good at all,” he repeats. “I don’t even remember my parents, or where I came from.” 

Phil’s eyes soften slightly at that, and he looks back to the dish he’s washing. After another moment of silence, he speaks up again. 

“You seem like a good kid, Ranboo,” he says. “I don’t trust you, but I think you’re alright. And you know you’re instantly dead if you try to fuck with my family. Clear?” 

Ranboo just nods. He gets the feeling it’s probably a good idea not to say anything.

Phil smiles, his gentle demeanor returning. “Alright, good. You run along and find Techno, now, I’ll finish the rest. He may look scary, but he won’t hurt you. He’s a softie, like his da.” 

Ranboo just smiles awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. Um- thank you. I’ll just- I’ll be on my way. Yeah.” Ranboo sets down the towel and quickly turns tail to hurry out the door. Closing the door on his way out, he breathes a sigh of relief. Man, those two are not to be messed with. 

Looking out at the snowy plains, Ranboo starts to get the feeling he’s forgetting something. Something important. He tugs at a strand of his hair, trying to remember. C’mon, Ranboo, think. 

Oh! His book! Right, he had dropped it earlier. 

After a quick moment of searching, Ranboo finds it, still laying in the snow. He picks it up, brushing the frost off its cover. That was close. He hugs the journal to his chest and starts to make his way to Techno’s cabin on the cliff. Thank God he remembered to look for it. He doesn’t know what he’d do without it. 

When Ranboo arrives at Techno’s house, he’s regarded with suspicion, but given a couple blankets and a pillow to sleep on in the next room over. Ranboo’s just grateful for a place out of the cold.

It doesn’t take long for his eyes to droop closed, and before Ranboo knows it, he’s sound asleep. 

____________

The next morning, when Ranboo wakes up, the house is quiet. He carefully pushes back his blankets and slips on his shoes. He stands and quietly makes his way to the front door, stepping close to the furniture where the floor is settled. He only pauses a moment by Techno’s doorway. He continues when he hears soft snoring coming from the other side of the door. He silently opens the front door and slips out into the early morning. The cool air kisses his cheek, and he shivers, starting the walk down the mountain. 

Ranboo doesn’t go to nether often, since he isn’t much of a fighter, and the place is crawling with hostile creatures, but today is a special occasion. There’s a portal only half a mile or so from the Arctic Empire that he’s seen Phil and Techno use, so he should be there in no time flat. 

A netherite axe with the proper enchantments will take a long time to make, and a lot of grinding, but Ranboo thinks it’ll be worth it. If he manages to earn Techno’s trust (or at least his respect), then maybe the others will start to trust him, too. He knows he’s intruding on Techno’s space, and Phil’s, too. The least he can do is make Techno a new weapon. Just as a little thanks. 

  
  


Ranboo stops by his house for a moment to gather the food and tools he’ll need, then ties on his netherite chestplate, and sets off. He’s got work to do. 

____

“Hey, has anyone seen that weird Ranboo fella from last night?” asks Tommy. Phil, Techno, and Tommy had all just cleaned up from eating dinner, and the older two were in the middle of an intense chess game. Tommy’s sitting backwards on the couch with his head hanging off the edge, half-pretending to read a book on sword fighting that Philza lent to him. His head’s starting to go fuzzy from him being upside down for so long, but he doesn’t care. 

“Nope,” Techno answers. His gaze is fixed on the chessboard in front of him. Phil has his feet kicked up on the table in front of them, nonchalantly picking at something in his teeth. Techno frowns. Goddamn Philza Minecraft and his insufferable poker face. 

“I haven’t seen him either, come to think of it,” Phil says, folding his hands behind his head. “Maybe Techno scared him off.”

“Yeah, ya prolly did, big man!” Tommy cackles. “He probably took one good look at your ugly face and thought, ‘no, thank you!’” He laughs harder, smacking the couch cushions with glee. 

“Tommy, be nice,” Phil scolds lightly, but he doesn’t really mean it. He’s snickering, too. Techno just rolls his eyes and decisively sets down his king piece. 

Phil uncrosses his ankles and takes his feet off the table, stretching. “Well, looks like that’s game. Checkmate.” He sets down his castle, and Techno curses under his breath. Dammit. 

The doorbell rings, and all three of them look up. 

“Just in time,” Phil comments.

Techno and Tommy look at each other. After a second of staring, they both spring into action, racing for the door. Tommy launches himself over the back of the couch and scrambles for the doorknob, but Techno’s already almost there, having knocked over the chess board in his haste. Tommy jumps on Techno, causing him to stumble back from the door, and Techno grunts, wincing. 

“Haha! Gotcha!” Tommy crows, but his pause for victory is what causes his downfall. Techno grabs Tommy and slings him over his shoulder as if he only weighs as much as a sack of potatoes. Tommy screams the whole way. 

“Gotcha, yourself,” Techno says dryly, and answers the door, all while Tommy flails and pounds his fists on Techno’s back, swearing and shouting. Phil just laughs. 

Ranboo stands outside the door, proudly holding a glimmering netherite axe. He looks scratched, bruised, and worn, but his eyes are bright. His clothes are coated with soot and red dirt.

“Ta-da!” he announces, grinning. 

Techno raises an eyebrow, evidently unimpressed. “What’s that supposed to be?”

Ranboo holds out the axe to him, smiling. “A netherite axe! It’s fully enchanted- fire aspect, looting, knockback- everything.” 

“For what?”

“Well- for you,” Ranboo says. “I know I’m taking up a lot of space, and I don’t know how long I’ll be staying here, so, well. I figured I’d at least get you a gift. Think of it as rent.”

Techno drops Tommy to the ground (who lands with an irritated “umph,” but is otherwise unharmed), and gingerly takes the axe from Ranboo, examining it closely. His expression remains flat, and for a second, Ranboo’s afraid he doesn’t like it.

“This… is fine,” Techno says, his voice wavering. “It’s fine.”

A grin spreads across Ranboo’s face. “You like it? ”

“It’s alright,” Techno repeats, but tears are obviously welling up in his eyes. “This doesn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t make us friends,” he says, pointing the axe at Ranboo. Though he doesn’t quite look at Ranboo with the disgust he did twenty-four hours ago.

“Right, right,” Ranboo says. “Of course.”   
  


Techno steps around Ranboo, holding the axe carefully. “I’d better go put this away,” he says gruffly, and sets out on the path to his house on the cliffs. Ranboo watches him go, a sense of pride glowing in his chest. He may have actually won over Techno’s favor! 

At a sudden slap on his back, Ranboo turns, startled. Phil, suddenly standing next to him, grins at Ranboo. “Told ya he’s a softie.”

Ranboo smiles. “Yeah,” he says. “I guess you were right, Phil.” 

________

Not even a mile away, a worn leather journal lies on a shelf, and a lone figure stands inside a flimsy wooden shack. The pages are smooth on his calloused fingertips. 

The words written there bring an empty smile to his face to match the one on the outside.  _ This,  _ he thinks.  _ Is going to work out so well. _


	4. Saline Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur enters the equation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all! sorry the update’s on the late side this friday. i hope your week’s been going well! this is the longest chapter yet, and the next two (both coming out next friday-ish) are the very last ;)  
> I had very little time to proofread but oh well,, enjoy! as always ur kudos and comments mean the world  
> (title: saline solution by wilbur soot)
> 
> TWs: memory loss, panic, arson, arguing, shouting, implied suicide and character death (not legitimate)

Beams of light gently shine through the gaps of the silky white curtains hung in an empty room, signaling the start of a new day. Golden sun illuminates the cream-colored bed sheets, and the brunette boy sitting on them. He hugs a faded red t-shirt to his chest. The cold air blankets his shoulders. His cheeks are tearstained, as they have so often come to be. 

Tommy’s room is just the way it was left. Clothes thrown upon the dresser, peeling posters taped to the wall, and an abandoned music box sitting in the corner. Dream wanted to throw these things away, but Tubbo insisted. He didn’t want to lose any more of Tommy than he already had. 

Poor Tommy. 

Tears leak from Tubbo’s tightly shut eyes as he holds onto the shirt. It’s been a little over a month since he… 

Tubbo chokes back a sob. He doesn’t want to think about it. 

When Tubbo had knocked on Tommy’s door on that horrible, horrible morning without any response, he didn’t think much of it. It was still fairly early, and Tommy could sleep through an earthquake if he wanted to. 

He had left without thinking about it. Tommy could get up later. 

After a few hours, Tubbo was starting to worry. Tommy still hadn’t come downstairs. It was almost lunch time, and they had fencing practice afterwards. Tommy never missed practice. What was going on?

Tubbo went back and stood at Tommy’s doorway. He hesitated a moment. He knocked. No response.

“Tommy?” The hallway remained silent. 

Tubbo knew he had no reason to really be worried. But something felt… wrong. Deeply, horribly amiss. 

He opened the door. A gust of wind hit him in the face, causing his eyes to water, and he squinted against the harsh breeze, confused. The doors to Tommy’s balcony were wide open, curtains billowing in the wind. Tommy was not in bed. 

“Tommy?” Where was he? Nothing was missing in the room, and Tommy’s travel bag was still hanging from the bedpost. If he had already woken up, then why was his door still closed? Unless….

Tubbo’s gaze drifted to the open doors.

His face draining of blood, Tubbo rushed to the balcony. He felt his throat starting to close up, the situation quickly and mercilessly dawning on him. 

“Tommy!” He screamed. “Tommy, this isn’t funny!” He searched the ground below the balcony for any sign of him, but there was only the pavement, five stories below. 

“Tommy!” he shouted again, his voice breaking. “Where are you?” There was no response. Only deafening silence, and the soft brush of wind on his cheek.

“No,” Tubbo had whimpered, sinking to his knees and clinging to the railing. He rested his head against the wooden bars, tears starting to drip down his cheeks. Surely not. 

Not Tommy. Brave, obnoxious, kindhearted Tommy. Why would he do this? How could he have done this? Tubbo had always thought Tommy was happy with his life- he almost always had a smile on his face, and a Plan B. How was Tubbo going to make it without Tommy? What was he going to do?

“Tubbo,” came a voice from behind him, and Tubbo closed his eyes. He knew Dream was in the doorway. He didn’t have the strength to look up. 

“Tubbo,” Dream said again, and knelt next to his younger brother, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Did you know?” Tubbo whispered, his voice barely audible. 

“What?” 

“Did you know?” Tubbo shouted in anguish, looking up at Dream. Tears and snot poured down his face. 

“Tubs…” Dream said softly. 

“Don’t call me that. Tommy calls me that. Dream. Did. you. Know?” 

Dream hesitated before nodding. “I didn’t want to tell you, Tubbo. I- I woke up, and went to check on Tommy, and…” He shook his head forlornly, his voice wavering. “I tried to tell him not to jump, Tubbo. I tried. But he wouldn’t listen. I wasn’t fast enough.” Dream looks at his hands, quiet for a moment. “I had the royal coroners come for his body. They cleaned up before you woke.” 

A strangled, tortured sob escaped Tubbo’s throat, and he gripped his head in his hands, shaking.

“No!” he wailed, pounding his fists on the tiled floor. “No!” He wanted to throw a fit, scream, curse. He wanted Tommy. He wanted his best friend.

“Shh…” Dream softly murmured, pulling Tubbo into a hug. Tubbo held onto him tightly, sobbing. Dream gently rocked him back and forth, murmuring comforting words to him, as if he were a toddler again. Tubbo wept for his dear friend.

The funeral was closed-casket. Private. Tubbo never saw the body. He didn’t think he would be able to handle it.

It was only he and Dream at the funeral. Phil and Techno’s seats remained empty. 

“They only brought him pain, anyways,” Dream had gently reminded Tubbo. “We were his real family.” Tubbo felt he had no choice but to miserably agree. 

Sitting on that empty bed now, Tubbo can only feel numb. The palace is too quiet without Tommy. Dream is nowhere to be found. Tubbo is left to attend to his royal duties alone.

Tubbo rubs at his eyes and stands up, gingerly folding the tear-stained shirt and setting it on the bed. As much as he would like to spend more time in the quiet, his people can’t be put aside. He has duties to attend to. He leaves the room and gently shuts the door behind him. 

Tommy. Poor Tommy. He didn’t deserve to die. 

_______________

  
  


The sun sits in the high center of the sky as Tommy trots down the mountain trail, wooden sword slung over his shoulder, and a smile on his face. Techno’s been teaching him to fight the whole morning, and although he’s a little bruised, Tommy’s beaming. He’s nowhere near as good as Techno- he didn’t even land one blow on the guy. But he’s been having fun! Techno seems happy to have someone to teach, and Tommy’s a fast learner. Techno even seems… proud, dare Tommy say it. His demeanor definitely felt a lot softer today. 

Humming to himself, Tommy comes up on the town square, and slows to a stop. A crowd of people are gathered around somebody, clapping and laughing along to fast-paced music emitting from the center of the gathering. Tommy catches a glimpse of a strange figure, hardly visible between all the people. He sings, strumming a mandolin, and makes dramatic movements and expressions to better engage his audience. His voice is strangely familiar.

Tommy furrows his brow, confused. “The fuck…?”

He pushes his way through the crowd, wanting to get a good look at this musician. When Tommy stumbles past the last ring of people, the singer is facing away from him, serenading the sky, his voice loud and clear. A little girl in the audience tugs on the stranger’s marigold-colored sweater, and, looking down, he shifts his string instrument onto his back by its leather strap, and takes the child’s hands. He twirls around with her jovially, still singing all the way. The crowd laughs at his cheerful antics. 

The little girl laughs and smiles, and Tommy watches, bewildered. The strange man turns, letting go of the small girl’s hands to continue playing the strong, sweet melody, and Tommy finally gets good look at him. He’s tall, just a couple inches more than himself, if Tommy were to guess. He wears a soft yellow sweater tucked into faded black jeans, and unruly brown hair peeks out of a maroon beanie, drifting into his face. His eyes are a deep, familiar chestnut color, sparkling in the sunlight. 

Tommy’s eyes widen. 

_ “Wilbur!” _

“Wha- umph!” Wilbur makes a startled noise as Tommy barrels into him, and the mandolin goes flying out of his hands. Tommy tosses his arms around Wilbur, pressing his face into his older brother’s shoulder. He smells like citrus and campfire smoke. Just the way Tommy remembers. 

“Oi!” Wilbur exclaims, startled, and pushes Tommy off him. “Watch it, Tommy, I’m trying to-” Wilbur stops. He looks at the younger boy. He blinks. “Tommy?”

“Wilbur,” Tommy says, out of breath. He’s grinning from ear to ear. 

“Tommy!” Tommy collides with him once more, and this time, Wilbur tightly hugs him back, resting a firm hand on the back of Tommy’s head. 

“Tommy, how did you- where- what- you crazy bastard, how did you get here?” Wilbur stumbles through his words, laughing. 

Tommy lets go of him, still beaming. “I live here with Philza Minecraft and Technoblade now, Wilbur! I’ve been hanging around here ever since Tubs kicked me out!” 

_ “He fucking did what?” _

“Oh, no, nonono, it’s fine, Wilbur, it’s fiiiine!” Tommy waves a hand dismissively. “I’ve moved on! I’m alright!”

Wilbur just slowly blinks at him. “Tommy,” he says. “You know that isn’t okay.” 

“No, no, well- Wilbur… y’know what, let’s talk about this somewhere else, shall we? Shall we? Come on, let’s go see Technoblade!” Before Wilbur can even protest, Tommy’s grabbing his hand and pulling him through the crowd, and Wilbur has no choice but to stumble after him. 

Tommy sprints back through the village square, Wilbur struggling to follow. “Where exactly does Techno live?” he pants, already out of breath. 

Tommy points to the small cabin on the cliff. “Just up there! C’mon, then, big man, you’re not that old, keep runnin’!”

By the time Tommy and Wilbur make it up the mountain to Technoblade’s cottage, Wilbur is thoroughly out of breath, and his legs are starting to ache. 

“Right!” Tommy announces. “Here we are!”

WIlbur kneels on the ground and wipes the sweat from his cheek, breathing heavily. “Hold on,” he wheezes. “I need a moment.” 

Tommy cackles and lightly slaps Wilbur’s back. “You really have gotten all old and shit, haven’t you?” 

“Yes, I have,” Wilbur says solemnly, standing. “Enjoy your youth while you have it, Tommy.” He raises a hand to the sun dramatically. “You must cherish it before you’re old and senile like I am.”

Tommy snorts and laughs. “Alright, will do, will do. Now go on and open the door, you’re taking forever!” 

Wilbur hesitates. 

“C’mon, Wil, what’ve you got to be afraid of? It’s just Technoblade.”

Wibur exhales heavily. “I know.” He opens the door. 

Technoblade sits on the couch with his feet kicked up on the ottoman, reading a small book that’s nearly dwarfed by his incredible hands. His cracked, dirty glasses are perched on his snout. “Tommy, I told you, we’ll practice more tomorrow,” he says, turning the page. “Go bother Phil or somethin’.” He doesn’t look up.

“Technoblade,” Tommy says, and Techno finally looks up. Wilbur averts his eyes. 

Techno blinks and rubs at his eyes. He stands, book forgotten, his breathing becoming irregular.

Wilbur waits there, quiet.

Techno stares at him, his soft expression slowly turning from shock into something hard and bitter. “You have some nerve, coming back here, after what you did,” he says quietly. 

Wilbur, taken off-guard by Techno’s antagonist remark, takes a second before replying in similar taste. “ _ I’m _ the one with the nerve?” he scoffs. “Come on, Technoblade, be realistic.” 

“Uh,” Tommy says. “Guys, how about let’s not fight? Yes? Can we not do that? Look, Wilbur’s back! Wilbur’s back! That’s a good thing so let’s all be good and happy about it!”

“Is it a good thing?” Techno says quietly, looking at his twin. 

Wilbur glowers at him. “It’s your fault I burned down the village, you know. You just couldn’t stand that Phil was paying attention to  _ me  _ for once, noooo, you just  _ had _ to go and get in the way.” 

“No, that was  _ you _ being a spoiled little brat,” Techno growls. “Nobody made you burn down our home. You did that yourself.” 

“Shut up, Technoblade.

Philza always loved you and Tommy more than me. He never cared about me. He had no fucking idea what I was going through. He only noticed I was seconds away from bloody suicide when I burned down  _ our fucking house,”  _ Wilbur hisses, tears burning behind his eyes. “He never loved me, always cast me aside for little Tommy, or- or big ol’ Technoblade. Never Wilbur! Never Wilbur, the failed musician, the middle child, the disappointment. Never me!” he sneers. 

Techno and Tommy stare at him in shock.

“Wilbur,” Techno starts, beginning to regret his harsh tone, but Wilbur cuts him off.

“You always were the favorite,” he mutters angrily, fixing his gaze on the floorboards. Tears drip down his cheeks. Techno exchanges a glance with Tommy.

“Wilbur, I’m... I’m sorry,” Techno says gruffly, quietly. “I didn’t realize…” he trails off and looks at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts. 

“Phil... hasn’t been right since you left,” he says finally, softly, and Wilbur bristles at his father’s name. “No one has. The first few weeks we spent travellin’, I could hardly get him to wake up in the mornin’. He wouldn’t eat, or drink water. He was a mess, Wilbur. Just a… a miserable old guy missin’ his son.” 

Wilbur laughs softly, his voice wavering. “He always was an old sap.” He shakily sniffles and rubs at his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment before speaking up again. “I know you didn’t know, Techno,” he says softly. “It wasn't your fault. I know I made that choice on my own.” He looks at Techno. “I just want to be brothers again.” 

The two look at each other for a moment, wordlessly, before Techno steps forward to hug Wilbur. Wilbur tightly wraps his arms around Technoblade, squeezing his eyes shut, and Techno rests his chin on Wilbur’s head. 

A sudden weight smacks against Techno and WIlbur, and Wilbur opens his eyes to see Tommy tightly clinging onto them. He’s beaming, welling up in his eyes. “I love you guys!” he says tearily, wiping a drop of water away from his cheek.

“Yeah, yeah,” Techno grumbles, and lets go of them. “Welp, I’ve had my dose of sentimentality for the day. Have ya talked to Phil yet, Wilbur?”

Wilbur shakes his head. “I really didn’t even know you all lived here. I was just dropping by to buy some food and such, before I, well… went to look for you. I s’pose my journey’s a lot shorter than I thought it would be.” As Wilbur talks, his gaze drifts around Techno’s home. It’s cluttered, but in an organized sort of way. Dozens of books are shoved haphazardly into bookshelves against the wall, messily-written notes and scraps of paper sticking out of their pages. It’s warm, and a small flame crackles in the fireplace, glowing soothingly. Wilbur closes his eyes for a moment, basking in the strange familiarity of it all. He hears Techno talking to him, but he doesn’t much care what he’s saying at the moment. 

Techno asks him a question, and Wilbur just hums in agreement, nodding. His eyes flit over the crumpled photos and drawings lying on Techno’s kitchen table. There’s a wrinkled picture of a young Techno clinging onto Philza, who rests a hand on his shoulder, smiling gently at someone out of frame. WIlbur sighs softly. 

“...right, WIlbur?”

“Hmm?” WIlbur says, looking up.

Techno huffs, irritated. “ _ I was just sayin’ _ I think it’d mean a lot ta Phil if you at least stopped by.” 

“Yeah!” Tommy pipes in, punching the air with his fist. “He misses you a whole lot, Wilby.” WIlbur hums thoughtfully and pulls his beanie off, his curly hair fluffing up with static. 

“Maybe,” he says, tousling Tommy’s hair and handing him the beanie as he rests his hand on Techno’s doorknob. “I guess I’ve been putting it off long enough. I think I’m ready to see the old man.” 

“Alright, good. Now get lost, so I can have some peace and quiet.” 

Tommy grins and shoves Wilbur’s beanie on over his ears, practically glowing with happiness. “I’ll come with!” he says, always one to invite himself. 

“Nope,” Techno says. “It’s Wilbur’s thing, Tommy, he’s gotta do this by himself.” 

“ _ Techno _ ,” Tommy groans, but Wilbur’s already opening the door and stepping out into the frigid weather. Technoblade can deal with Tommy’s whining on his own. Wilbur closes the door behind him and runs a hand through his hair, letting out a long sigh. His fingers are trembling. 

As Wilbur makes his way back to the village, he takes his own sweet time. He isn’t exactly looking forward to seeing Philza. 

It’s been so long, and while he’s long forgiven Phil, he doesn’t know if his father will feel the same. Wilbur knows what he did was awful. He knows it can never be the same. But some part of him just longs to be in his father’s embrace again, pressing his nose into that soft green tunic. “You’re alright,” Phil would say to him, and he’d press a kiss to Wilbur’s forehead, and it would all turn out okay because Wilbur would have his dad and he would be happy. Wilbur longs to have that comfort again. They would spend hours reading together in the living room, talking about whatever they pleased, and just… living in one another’s presence. 

That is, until Techno came along. Those scrappy rags of clothing and soft peach fur were enough for Phil to forget about his other sons entirely. Before long, that son of a bitch had forgotten all about WIlbur, left him to-

_ No, _ Wilbur scolds himself, snapping out of that thought.  _ You know that isn’t true. Phil had another mouth to feed, another education to pay for. He wanted to love you.  _

Wilbur’s tried to get rid of that awful, paranoid way of thinking in the years that he’s been gone. He’s learned that he has the capacity to forgive, and change. His therapist, a kind lass by the name of Puffy, taught him that. That was a hard lesson to learn. He’s still in the process of learning it. 

The last time Wilbur saw Phil was a horrible, horrible day. The ash coating his lungs and heart suffocated his mind. The flames licking up the side of the spruce houses, devouring everything in their path, set his eyes aglow. The laughter bubbling up from his throat, ripping itself from his chapped lips, made him want to scream, to weep for everything he’s lost. The monster he’s turned himself into.

Then, a hand on his shoulder. His father’s horrified, disgusted face. 

“Wilbur,” Phil had whispered. “What have you done?” 

Wilbur had only smiled at him, fury seething beneath his mirthless expression. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Phil only stared. Wilbur turned away, and he left. He hasn’t seen his family since. Not his biological one, anyhow. He found refuge among a small group of people beyond the borders of the Celestial Kingdom. They helped him see how ill he was. They helped him get better. Niki, Fundy, Eret… and Puffy, of course. WIlbur smiles fondly upon those names. He’ll see them again, he’s sure. 

“Excuse me, lad,” Wilbur says, stopping a young teenage boy on the street. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone by the name of Phiza Minecraft, would you?”

“Oh!” The boy’s face lights up. “Sure I do! Everyone knows him. He lives just right over there, mister,” he says, pointing at a small, sleepy-looking cottage at the edge of the village. Wilbur gives the boy his thanks and sends him on his way, before heading in that direction.

As he gets closer, the pit in his stomach begins to deepen, empty and null. He stops at the door, his fist raised hesitantly before the cedar planks. His heart is pounding in his chest. Before he can persuade himself to walk away, he rapidly knocks on the door. 

“Just a moment, mate!” sounds a familiar voice, and a part of Wilbur’s heart crumbles. “You can go ahead and let yourself in, Techno.”

WIlbur takes a deep breath, opens the door, and steps inside. Philza leans against the kitchen counter with his back to Wilbur, scribbling something down on a piece of paper. Wilbur waits, silently, for his father to turn around. 

“There, aaaand, done!” Phil chirps, setting his pen on the counter before turning to face the door. “Right then, are you ready to-” Shock washes over Philza’s face. He stares at Wilbur, open-mouthed. His face has gone pale. He blinks, bewildered. 

“Wilbur…?”

“Hey, Phil,” Wilbur says weakly, shrugging. 

Phil covers his mouth with one hand, his eyes already growing wet with tears. “My son,” he says softly, his voice hardly above a whimper. “I must be dreaming.”

Wilbur shakes his head, and Phil lets out a choked sob before running to embrace his child. WIlbur meets him in the middle and holds onto him tightly, tears burning in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, dad,” he whispers. “I am so, so sorry.”

Phil only holds onto him tighter. “You’ll always be my boy, Wilbur,” he says softly, quietly. “I should have paid more attention to you, listened to you- but I was so fuckin’ caught up in making sure we were surviving that I didn’t even check to make sure we were _ living _ . God,” he says. “I thought you were dead.”

“We both fucked up,” Wilbur says. He squeezes his eyes shut. After all this time, Phil’s embrace doesn’t feel exactly how he remembers it. It feels… better. It feels like home. 

The door swings open, and a tall, gangly figure ducks through, his arms overflowing with groceries. A few apples toppling from the brown paper bags he carries. “Woah-” he quickly catches one or two of the fruits in midair, nearly dropping his other bags in the process. “Phil, I got all those things you asked me to- oh.”

Wilbur and Phil stand staring at Ranboo, still embracing each other. 

“I… sense I’m interrupting something,” Ranboo says slowly. “Just a- just a hunch.” 

Phil laughs and lets go of Wilbur, rubbing his tears away. “A bit, yeh.” 

“Should I.. should I go? I feel like I should go.” 

“ _ Who are you? _ ” WIlbur asks, his eyes as big as dinner plates. “And why’s your-” he gestures vaguely. “Why’s your hair and eyes and everything all fucking… split?”

“Okay, well, we’re just straight to the point in this house, aren’t we-”

“Wil, be nice,” Phil chastises. “That’s Ranboo, and he’s our neighbor, he lives about a mile or two away.” 

“I used to live with Technoblade,” Ranboo adds.

“And Ranboo, this is my middle child, Wilbur.”

“You don’t mean the one who-”

“Yes,” Phil says, taking the groceries from Ranboo’s hands. 

“We don’t talk about it,” Wilbur interjects. 

“Fair enough.” 

Phil lets out a soft sigh and begins putting away the groceries. “Will you boys go grab Tommy and Techno? We’ll have family dinner tonight.” He smiles at Wilbur. “Just like old times.”

Wilbur smiles. “Of course.” 

Not fifteen minutes later, the house is filled with the hustle and bustle of the Minecraft family (plus Ranboo, but in most everyone’s books, he counts as family, too) moving about the kitchen. Pleasant aromas waft in the air, and Techno takes the delicious-smelling food out of the oven. He sets it on the dining table, humming under his breath along to a song that Wilbur’s shouting with Tommy. WIlbur sets down napkins and silverware as he sings, grinning all the time. Tommy sits on the back of the couch, singing his heart out as well. 

Eventually, everyone comes together and settles down at the table, chatting happily amongst themselves. A soft dinging noise interrupts the conversation, and everyone glances over at Wilbur, who’s lightly tapping his fork against his cup.

“A toast!” he announces, standing and raising his glass high in the air. “To family.” 

“To family!” Tommy cheers, and everyone else follows suit, laughing and smiling. 

“Now,” Wilbur begins, smiling. “I have an exciting proposition to make, everyone! It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. So I think…” he pauses for dramatic effect. “A festival is in order.” 

“Like... a party?” Ranboo asks, hesitant. 

“Exactly, my dear fellow!” WIlbur grins. “We’ll invite everyone from the village, and it’ll be so big, and so fantastic, that those high-and-mighty, celestial kingdom, government  _ pricks _ will be able to see it from here! Ranboo- you can do the decor, Phil can cook, Techno can act as a bouncer, and I’ll provide the live music!”

“Yeah!” Tommy shouts, punching the air. “Suck it, Dream! Tubbo!” 

“Do we really need a bouncer if everyone’s invited?” Techno asks.

“It’ll be grand!” Wilbur shouts, hopping up onto his chair and holding his glass aloft once more. “It’ll be written in the hist’ry books and everything, Phil!” 

“I don’t think that’s- alright,” Phil says, shaking his head and smiling. 

Tommy follows suit and jumps up onto his chair, too, his face alight with excitement. “Wilbur, do I get to help?” he asks enthusiastically, and Wilbur laughs heartily. 

“Help? Tommy, my friend, you’re going to be my right hand man! The center of it all!” 

Tommy gapes. “You really mean that?” 

“Of course! But this festival isn’t just to celebrate us all being here,” Wilbur says, stepping down from his chair and resting a hand on Phil’s shoulder. His face turns solemn, flickers of quiet anger alighting his eyes. He sets down his glass with his free hand and brushes off his sweater. “It’s a sendoff party.”

Wilbur pauses again, taking a moment to let that sink in. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

“For what?” Tommy finally asks. 

“We,” Wilbur says. “Are going to kill Dream.” 

“Now that’s something I can get behind,” Techno says, nodding in approval. “We can-”

With an abrupt clatter and the screech of wooden chair legs, Phil stands up. “Absolutely fucking not.” Everyone turns to look at him, startled. Techno shuts his mouth.

“You can have your party. I don’t care about that,” Phil says. “But you will  _ not _ , under any circumstances, go to fight Dream. And that is final.” He looks at all of them in turn, his expression making it clear he isn’t budging from the decision. Ranboo, despite being the only one Phil  _ wasn’t _ scolding, seems to be the only one ashamed of himself for the thought.

Wilbur huffs. “Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. I can handle a twink like him.” 

Phil just shakes his head. “I said no, Wil.” 

“But-”

“Let’s just continue with dinner,” Phil says curtly, abruptly interrupting Wilbur. He sits down, and Tommy does too. Wilbur stays standing for a moment before reluctantly following suit. 

“Welp,” Techno says. “Looks like that’s not happenin’ anytime soon. You can count me outta the party, by the way.”

_ “What?”  _ Tommy squawks indignantly, and a new argument promptly sprouts up.

By the time they’ve all finished squabbling over Techno’s appearance (or lack of) at the festival, the food’s all gone cold, and the sun has sunken far below the horizon. Ignoring his sons’ incessant bickering, Phil picks up their plates and brings them to the sink. They could go at this for hours. Glancing back at them, Phil frowns, noticing an absence at the table. “Has anyone seen Ranboo?” He asks, and the three of them look up. 

“Nope,” Wilbur says nonchalantly. A little too nonchalantly. 

“Alright,” Phil says slowly, carefully. “If you say so.”

Techno stands from the table and stretches, yawning. “Thanks for dinner, Phil,” he says. “I’m headin’ home. Wilbur, I gotta spare room if you need a place to stay.”

“Excellent! “ Wilbur chirps, and stands as well. “I’ll see you later, Tommy.”

Tommy visibly deflates with disappointment. “D’you hafta go?” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t you worry. We’ve got a festival to prepare for, after all.” WIlbur ruffles Tommy’s hair and gives him a grin, then heads to the door with Techno.

“Okay,” Tommy says, smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Techno and Wilbur leave, and Tommy moves to help Phil with the dishes.

  
  


Just a little ways away, Ranboo sits on his bed, writing in his journal with shaking hands. He struggles to maintain his breathing as his throat closes in on itself, hot tears burning in his eyes. Fog creeps to the edge of his mind, as if sensing his distress. It hums to him soothingly, inviting him to let himself be blanketed by its soft mists. Ranboo pushes it away in panic, his handwriting growing sloppy and careless. He has to write this down before he forgets- he can feel himself slowly succumbing to unconsciousness. 

Wilbur. Tommy. Dream. He didn’t have any other choice. When Wilbur had pulled Ranboo aside from the dinner table, his eyes dark and serious, Ranboo had already been nervous. 

When Wilbur told Ranboo they were going to find Dream anyways, and when he asked Ranboo to join them, Ranboo’s mouth went completely dry. He felt the walls start to cave in, and his head grew dizzy. WIlbur’s eyes bored into his, intense and fiery. The sound of Techno and Tommy bickering overflowed his head, making his ears ring. His breathing grew shallow. Fight? Kill?  _ Dream?  _

Ranboo’s never met Dream, he doesn’t even know what he looks like- but from what he’s heard, he’s someone you should never, ever cross paths with. People call him a god, an immortal. A demon. There is no possible, conceivable way Ranboo could ever make it out alive. But Wilbur is watching his every moment, and the others will notice their silence soon if he doesn’t supply an answer. 

The head that nods does not feel like his own. But it’s Ranboo who made the decision nonetheless.    
  


Ranboo had hurried home at the nearest opportunity, his head still spinning. It was his first instinct to grab the journal and start writing. Now, his hand starts to slow, and his letters have drifted into unintelligible, confusing symbols that can hardly be interpreted as letters. His head hangs, and his eyelids droop closed. He’s so, so tired, and the fog is so warm, and soft. With a last soft exhale, Ranboo is fast asleep. His pen slips from his hand onto the carpeted floor, forgotten. 

It hardly feels like any time at all has passed when Ranboo wakes up again. The inky darkness lurking outside his window tells him otherwise. He has no idea what time it is, and his head pulses with a disgusting, throbbing pain. He breathes out shakily and slowly cracks open his eyes to see- light. Soft candle light, and a figure standing in his home, facing away from him.

Ranboo stops breathing. He instinctively reaches for his book, slowly, as not to notify the intruder that he’s awake- but his fingertips only meet empty air. At the rasping sound of a page turning, Ranboo’s eyes flick back to the figure.  _ His journal! _ A soft, involuntary cry slips out of his mouth, and the figure turns.

The first thing Ranboo notices is the empty, grinning mask. It sends chills skittering up Ranboo’s spine, and his stomach curdles. Sandy blond hair peeks out from a grass-green hood. The stranger’s polished netherite armor gleams ominously. 

“Ranboo!” says the stranger cheerfully, closing the book. Ranboo’s eyes widen, and he tears his gaze away from the horrible mask, fixing his gaze on his journal. His hands are trembling again. He can’t remember how to speak. “I was wondering when you’d wake up, sleepyhead.” 

“Who- who are you?” Ranboo manages to stammer out. 

Dream chuckles and holds out Ranboo’s journal for him to take. “Stop goofing around, Ranboo, c’mon.” 

Ranboo’s gaze darts back and forth between the journal and the stranger’s face. He reaches out and gingerly takes the book, making sure not to touch the man’s hands. He hugs the journal to his chest. A faint buzz hums in his ears. “I’m- but I’m not goofing around. I really have no idea who you are.”

“Ranboo,” Dream chastises. “You really are a dummy. You’re my best friend, we hang out all the time. Come one, it’s me. Dream.” 

Ranboo’s heart  _ stops _ . The room starts to sway, and Ranboo tastes acidic, putrid bile rising in the back of his throat. “Dream?” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “No. No, that can’t be. You’re- and Tommy- Philza-” 

“-don’t matter,” Dream croons, finishing Ranboo’s sentence. “You’ve been such a great help, Ranboo. You should get some rest. There’s a party in a couple days, after all.” A smile creeps into his voice. “I hope there’s cake. Don’t you?”

Ranboo clenches the journal in his fists, his vision blurring. “You’re sick. You disgust me. How can you be thinking of cake at a time like-” Ranboo blinks and rubs at his eyes. The room is empty. There’s no sign of anyone having been there at all. The only sound is the haunting moan of wind whirling and whipping outside. “... at a time like this,” he whispers.

Ranboo buries himself under his covers, tucking his blankets tight over his head, as if the flimsy plush will protect him from the horrible, horrible mistake he’s just made. He clutches his journal to his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut, a sob stuck in the back of his throat. This must be a nightmare. It has to be. He’s still drowsy, in distress- surely his mind in playing tricks on him. Nevertheless, he can’t help but feel sick.

When he wakes up again, he won’t remember. 

He didn’t write it down. 


	5. When The Family Flies In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This family was born in fire.  
> Now they must burn in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER!!!!! i’m so excited about this and tysm to everyone who’s supported me throughout these five weeks! i hope you all enjoy! and ps, don’t worry :) it’s a happy ending <3 as always ur kudos and comments mean the world!
> 
> also! check out my tumblr @jupiter-oak for COVER ART and the ASK HOUR on my fic i’ll be having later! see ya there!
> 
> tws: fire, memory loss, panic, injury, near death experience, mentioned past child abuse, mentioned past abusive schlatt, alcoholism mention, mentioned character death
> 
> title: when the family flies in by julia jacklin

Tommy’s used to dreaming of fire. 

The blaze has become a bitter friend to him, often coercing him into the waking world with its burning, acidic taste. He’ll wake up with his covers thrown off of him, crescent-shaped marks etched into his arms where his fingernails have dug into his skin. His hands feel dry and chapped, and tingle with the sensation of the burns from all those years ago. His eyes water with the memory of that disgusting, flickering warmth, and its gray smog. He’s never been fond of the heat. 

He only realizes how much of it he’s truly forgotten when he opens his eyes to flames. There’s someone shaking him awake, urging him to get up- Tommy sits up groggily and rubs at his eyes, Ranboo’s face slowly coming into focus, and his words slowly becoming clear. Smoke and ash clogs the air, flames lick up his bedroom door. The dry heat is unbearable. 

“...Wake up, Tommy, we have to go!” Ranboo’s shouting, shaking Tommy by the shoulders. Tommy’s eyes fly open, and he clambers out of bed, stumbling on his way. “The fuck- what the shit is happening?” he screams, and Ranboo only shakes his head in bewilderment, obviously as panicked to the situation as Tommy is. Thinking faster than his hands will move, Tommy fumbles with the latch on his window, glancing back at the flames that are slowly spreading to swallow the rest of his room. 

He chokes on the grimy air, growing desperate, and manages to get the latch undone. He flings open the window and climbs out onto the sill, hesitating before jumping to the ground below him. His ankle rolls at a funny angle, and he inhales sharply, tears pricking his eyes, but other than that he’s unharmed. Ranboo clambers out the window behind him, scrambling away from the blazing house. 

He grabs Tommy’s arm, and they run, Tommy lagging behind just the slightest bit. They’ve hardly been running for less than thirty seconds when they begin to slow, and Tommy sinks to his knees, breathing heavily. Snow whips past them in icy gusts, stabbing their eyes with little flakes. 

Still out of breath, Tommy turns back to the direction of the village, his mouth going dry. The darkness of the early morning hangs thick in the air. The sun hasn’t even begun to rise yet.

Every single house is ablaze. Flames illuminate the rising smoke a sickly orange color, the skeleton framework of the buildings’ foundations vaguely standing out against the haunting light. Even Techno’s house, that isolated little cottage up on the mountain, sits burning. Tommy stares, horrified, mouth open in shock. 

“What.. happened?” Tommy asks, eyes wide. 

“I don’t know,” Ranboo pants, squeezing his eyes shut. His panicked face mirrors Tommy’s own expression. “I- woke up in the middle of the village square, and- and there was fire, and people screaming- I think I saw Techno, he told me to come get you, and that he’d meet us-” Ranboo clutches his head in his hands, trembling. “It’s all so blurry.”

“No, no, what about our festival? Our party? It was gonna be so great! Ranboo, c’mon, you’ve got to remem- Ugh!” A hand roughly yanks Tommy into a standing position, cutting off his sentence, and Tommy gasps, startled. “Hey, big man, what’s the-” Tommy’s words die on his tongue once more when he finds himself met with a smiling, bone-white mask. It’s tinged with soot. “What’s the... big idea,” he finishes softly, his hands starting to shake. 

“Tommy!” Ranboo shouts, standing. 

Dream chuckles softly, tightening his grip on Tommy’s shirt. “Well, well, well,” he says. “If it isn’t little Tommy, and little Ranboo. All alone in the cold. ” 

Glowering, Tommy shoves Dream away, stepping back. He winces slightly on account of his hurt ankle. “Fuck off, man.” 

Dream takes a step close again, running his fingers up and down the axe he carries. “It’s been a while, Tommy. I’ve missed you.”

Tommy falters, surprised. He stares at Dream for a moment. “...Missed me?” he echoes. 

Ranboo stands frozen to the ground, unable to move. 

“Missed you,” Dream confirms, taking on a kindly tone. “Gosh, Tommy, why’d you run off? Really gave me a scare.”

“Wha- You kicked me out!” Tommy sputters, keeping his eyes fixed on that empty smile. “Left me for fuckin’ dead!”

“Tommy,” Dream says, sounding hurt. “Why would I do something like that?” 

“I…” Tommy casts his eyes down at the snow, tears starting to well up in his eyes. He roughly rubs them away, unsure why he’s even crying. “You wouldn’t,” he murmurs, shame washing over him. Did he really just make all this up? He’s been playing the victim card all along, hasn’t he? Typical Tommy. Despite his attempts to hold them back, tears leak out of his eyes. Maybe it’d be better to just accept his death. 

“There, there,” Dream shushes him, moving to his side. Placing a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, he pushes Tommy to the ground, planting his boot into the poor child’s back. Tommy doesn’t protest, only curls in on himself, shking. Dream raises his axe, counting his breaths. “This will only hurt for a moment.” His blade slices through the air, swift and decisive, and-

“ _ Stop _ !” Ranboo blurts, the volume of his voice raking past his throat, and Dream’s swing falters, just barely grazing Tommy’s cheek. Tommy tenses, bracing himself. 

Letting out a hiss of frustration, Dream turns his gaze to Ranboo. “What is it  _ now _ , Ranboo? Haven’t we waited long enough?”

“You can’t just-” Ranboo stops short, staring at Dream. “I… how do you know my name?” 

Dream shakes his head, impatient. “This isn’t the time for jokes. Come on, let’s finish the job.” 

“I… don’t understand.” 

Dream sighs softly. “Ranboo, always you with your memory. Remember what we’re doing? The plan was to kill Tommy, Ranboo, you know that.  _ You’re on my side _ . You’re helping me?”

Dream’s words grow fuzzy as Ranboo hears them, as his breathing starts to grow shallow. “But- I didn’t- I- No, I don’t even know you! Put the- put that axe down, you’re going to hurt him! I wouldn’t help you, I wouldn’t,” Ranboo rambles, grabbing his head in his hands and pulling at his hair. Nausea overtakes him, and blurry, distorted memories drip through the cracks of his mind, filled with empty smiles, and scribbled words, and torn pages. He squeezes his eyes shut, a broken sob pushing past his lips. 

“I’ll do this myself, you know,” Dream snarls, his voice cutting through the cacophony of pictures and memories overflowing Ranboo’s head. 

“My book,” gasps Ranboo, shaking. He can hardly think of anything else. Dream stops for a moment, before laughing softly. “Ah, right. The book. Getting rid of all the evidence, right? Can’t let Phil and Techno know you’ve been providing me information.” Dream pulls the worn leather journal out of his satchel and tosses it to him. 

“No,” Ranboo whimpers, but he catches the book with freezing hands anyways. He looks down at it through acidic tears. He looks at Dream, then to Tommy, shaking in the snow. 

He runs. 

Tommy opens his eyes to see Ranboo flee, his tears slowly turning to ice on his reddened cheeks. It’s so cold. “Ranboo,” he whispers, grief overtaking him. Surely this is where he dies. 

“Alright, Tommy,” Dream says. “It’s time to-”

“Why are you doing this?” Tommy interrupts, struggling half-heartedly against Dream. “You’re fuckin’ sick. You’re a horrible man. What did I ever do to you?” 

The silence that Dream leaves hanging in the air is suffocating. Tommy can feel those null eyes boring into the back of his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dream’s index finger twitch. 

“How about,” Dream says. “I tell you a story?”

“I don’t want your stupid fuckin’ bedtime story.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Dream says simply. Tommy glares at him out of the corner of his eye. 

Another moment of silence passes. Tommy’s skin burns from the cold.

“Once upon a time,” Dream begins, after what seems like forever. “There was an older brother. And his father was very, very drunk. And his little brother was a precious, innocent, little brat. They plagued him day in and day out. All they seemed to be able to do was hinder his success.” HIs words are soaked in quiet, burning venom.

“This older brother was different from his family. He was agile, he was charming. He was already better trained than any of the royal guards at age eight. He was clever. Much more clever than his deadbeat dad, and his childish little brother. Cleverer than them  _ combined _ , in fact.” Tommy snorts in disbelief. Dream continues. If he heard Tommy, he doesn’t show any signs of caring. “He never showed his face. Hid it behind a mask, to shield the world from his horrible scars. A beer bottle smashed across the face _ hurts _ , Tommy. And no one wants to see what it does to your face.” 

Tommy holds his breath. He doesn’t think he likes this story.

“The older brother was only ten when his father died. He was excited. A whole kingdom to inherit, just for himself. He didn’t care.” Dream shrugs, his voice full of hollow apathy. “He probably would have killed his father eventually, anyways. It was a bonus for him.

“But his alcoholic father had other plans.Plans that didn’t involve his eldest son. Hardly an hour before his heart attack struck, he had stood in front of his people, the little brother grasping his father’s little finger with small, sweaty hands. And do you know what my father said, Tommy? Do you know?”

Tommy starts to respond, but Dream cuts him off. “He told his kingdom that his five year old son would become the heir. His eldest son, the older brother, was only a temporary stand-in. I was replaceable,” He sneers, digging the heel of his boot between Tommy’s shoulder blades.

“The older brother ruled magnificently in those years, better than any king before. He had a council assigned to help him rule, but what help were they? He knew he was the real one in control, and the council knew it, too.

“The rest of the people blindly followed him, but they were always detached. Everyone knew he wasn’t the real king. As they watched the little brother grow up, the tension became thicker and thicker. The older brother wanted that power so desperately, but if he refused his brother the crown, he would surely be exiled, or executed. 

“So the only way to really go about would be to- have a plan.” A smile creeps into Dream’s tone. 

“When his brother came of age, there would be a horrible accident. Something so awful, so unspeakable- how could anyone suspect a grieving, once-older brother, now only child? They wouldn’t. It was perfect.

“But a certain little  _ thorn _ in his side stopped his plan from going so flawlessly. 

His little brother’s best friend. The most important person in the world to him. He filled the younger brother’s head with delusions of grandeur, made him excited to be king, filled him with the hope that the older brother had been taking away from him. It wouldn’t fly. So another plan had to be put into action. It was similar, yes, but God, was it clever. 

A... different kind of accident.” Dream giggles softly, throwing his hands in the air. “It was even more flawless than the first! Tommy would be exiled from the palace under false pretenses, and lose faith in his best friend, so he would never go looking for him.” 

Tommy’s eyes widen. _ What?  _

_ “ _ On the other hand, Tommy’s death- his  _ suicide _ would be faked, and Tubbo would throw himself into grieving. He’d be too distraught to notice the information, the instructions I’d feed him! And so far- it’s worked perfectly!” He laughs harder. “I’m in power, and no one even knows it! And, well, Tommy- I’m here to make sure it stays that way!” Dream raises his axe another time, giggling the whole time. Tommy struggles against him, adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins.

“Fuck you!” he screams, for all his worth. He’s not giving up. Tommy will never give up. Determination surges through his blood, his heart. He needs to survive. For his father, his brothers. His best friend.

“Goodbye, Tommy! I’d ask if you have any last words, but I don’t think I care enough to-”

_ “Dream _ !” A tall, black and white figure comes out of  _ nowhere  _ and tackles Dream to the ground, knocking the powerful man clean off of Tommy. He wrestles the axe away from Dream, and using all his strength, throws it as far as he can. Dream swears and kicks, but he’s been taken off guard- he didn’t have time to prepare for an attack like this. 

“Ranboo!” Tommy cries, stumbling to his feet. “You came back for me!” 

Ranboo looks at Tommy, smiling, tears still in his eyes. “What are friends for?”

Dream shoves Ranboo off of him and gets to his feet, unsheathing a sword from his back. Wordlessly and mercilessly, he lunges, but his blade clangs against another. “This seem familiar?” Techno asks, an eyebrow raised, and kicks Dream’s feet out from under him. Dream slips and hits the icy ground once more with a pained ”umph!” Taking his chance, Techno grabs the netherite sword, and tosses it to Wilbur, who’s running up behind him. 

“Technoblade! Wilbur!” Tommy shouts. Wilbur winks and salutes him, high fiving Technoblade.

Dream scrambles up off the ground, frantically searching for the pearls in his satchel, but he fumbles, dropping the entire bag in the process (which Wilbur quickly snatches). “Fuck!” Dream hisses, searching for anything-  _ anything  _ to help him escape. How could he have come this unprepared? This was supposed to be  _ easy _ . WIlbur, Techno, and Ranboo are closing in. 

There’s no way out. He only brought his sword, and his axe- he’d be protected with his armor, but they all have weapons. His chances aren’t looking good. Then. In a moment of a terrifying, impossible display of genius, Dream turns- _ and fucking books it _ .

He doesn’t make it far. Philza materializes in front of him from an unseen enderpearl and smacks him upside the head with the blunt end of his sword, his tattered wings flaring out behind him. Dream crumples to the ground. 

Out of breath and fuming, Phil lands a swift kick to the side of Dream’s head. “That’s what ya get for messing with my fuckin’ family, ya cunt,” he sneers. 

There’s a deafening moment of quiet. Dream lays on the ground, soundless, probably concussed. Philza breathes heavily, glaring at the man at his feet. His sword is gripped tightly in cold hands. 

“Yeahh!” Techno cheers, shattering the fragile silence. “Violence!”

Taking this as an invitation to celebrate, the rest of the group bursts into shouts and cries.Tommy throws his arms around Ranboo and hugs him tight, and Ranboo pats his back awkwardly (although he’s grinning from ear to ear). Techno gathers them both into a tight bear hug and lifts them off the ground, laughing maniacally. Wilbur grins at his brothers, eyes sparkling, and strides over to his father, hugging him tight.

Phil hugs him back, smiling. “That felt good, I’m not gonna lie.”

WIlbur laughs and lets go of him. “I bet it did. You one-hit K.O.’d that guy, da.”

Phil chuckles at that. 

“Some god he is, anyway. What’re we gonna do with this fuckin’ guy?” WIlbur asks, nudging Dream with the tip of his boot. 

Phil shrugs and scratches the back of his head, his smile fading. “Dunno. I sp’ose we’ll have to find somewhere he can’t ever hurt someone again.”

“I know a place.” A familiar voice sounds, and Phil looks up. Techno sets down Ranboo and Tommy, exchanging a glance with Wilbur.

Tubbo steps down off his horse, his worn boots crunching in the snow.

Tommy blinks, his eyes widening. Tubbo. He looks… well, awful, to say the least. His blue eyes have faded to a dull gray, his hair is frizzy and unbrushed. His winter coat is rumpled and torn. But he’s still Tubbo. Tommy’s best friend, the person he trusts most. Standing there in front of Tommy’s father. In the flesh, no less. 

“Hello, child,” Phil says gently.

“Tubs?” Tommy asks, incredulously, his voice gone soft. A smile spreads across his face, and he laughs in disbelief. “ _ Tubbo? _ ”

Now Tubbo’s staring back at him, open-mouthed. “Wha- Tommy? _ Tommy?  _ How are you- _ ”  _

“Tubbo!” Tommy shouts again. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo’s face splits into a grin, and the two run for each other, colliding in the middle and slipping on the ice. They land hard, foreheads smacking together with an audible  _ thunk _ (Techno winces), but they’re too ecstatic to care. Tubbo grabs Tommy’s hand and pulls him into a hug, and Tommy hugs him back, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. 

“I missed you, Tommy,” Tubbo says, holding onto him tightly, and Tommy grins, tousling Tubbo’s hair.

“I missed you too, Tubs.” Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling shakily. It’s been too long since he’s seen his best friend. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed that good ol’ Tubbo. 

“Tommy, I thought- I thought you were dead,” Tubbo says softly.

“I’m alive, I know!” Tommy says enthusiastically. “I almost fuckin’ wasn’t, but good ol’ Ranboo had my back.” (At this the older boy shrugs, flushing sheepishly and murmuring his excuses.) “Dream tricked you, Tubs. All he’s ever done is lie. He lied about you kicking me out, about me being dead- everything. But even the best, most cleverest lies- not even they can break a true bond like we’ve got. We’re stronger than Dream.” 

“I know,” Tubbo says, and for the first time in a while, he’s smiling. 

“Hate ta interrupt this reunion,” Techno says scooping up Dream and flinging him over his shoulder. “But we kinda got a tyranical ex-king on our hands.” Laying there unconscious, draped over Techno’s shoulder, Dream doesn’t look threatening at all. It seems ridiculous, even, to think that moments ago, he had almost severed Tommy’s head from his shoulders.

“Right,” Tubbo says, and pulls away from Tommy, getting to his feet. He looks at his brother, his face a mixture of pity, and disappointment, and anger. 

Wilbur gently rests a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder. “What’s that you were saying about a place he can’t hurt anyone, Tubbo?”

“My friend Sam,” Tubbo starts, brushing the snow off his legs. 

“Sam!” Tommy exclaims, finishing Tubbo’s thought and jumping up from the snow (despite his sprained ankle). “Right, right- that big fuckin’ prison he made!”

“Exactly!” Tubbo says, smiling. “Dream paid him to build it. It’s quite literally inescapable.”

Techno shrugs. “Sounds good ta me. I’ll take him.” 

“Be careful,” Phil chimes. 

“And make sure he doesn’t wake up,” Wil adds.

“Will do. Ranboo,” Techno says, patting Ranboo’s shoulder as he passes by. “Ya comin’?”

“Oh- no, I.. think I’d better stay here,” Ranboo stammers. He and Phil share a glance. “I’ve... got some things to talk about with Phil.” 

At this, Phil nods and gently touches Ranboo’s arm. “Let’s go ahead and talk about those things now, mate.” His manner is warm, not angry at all, to Ranboo’s slight surprise. After Ranboo had clumsily explained the situation, and how he may or may not have been helping Dream- Phil took it calmly. Ranboo suspects he knows there’s a bigger picture going on than what he’s hearing. Ranboo gives him a small, tired smile. “Alright.” 

“‘Kay,” Techno says. “Wilbur an’ I will go, then. C’mon.” 

“What, are you scared of being alone with Dream or something?” Wilbur teases as he and Techno leave, the aforementioned green bastard in tow. “Scared he’s gonna wake up?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Turning to Tommy, Tubbo smiles. “Well, here we are again,” he says. The relief of seeing Tommy alive is still fresh in his heart, and his eyes shine faintly. “What d’you wanna do now?”

Tommy looks to the sky, the last murmurs of night fading into the pale blues and yellows of the morning sun. The snow shimmers under the changing daylight. “I dunno,” he says. He smiles at Tubbo. “I think… we should just enjoy the sunrise.” 

And, dear reader, do you know what?

That’s exactly what they did.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
